


Brighter Than the Sun

by GoldenTruth813, Mzuul



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Auror James Sirius Potter, Bisexual Draco Malfoy, Blow Jobs, Community: hp_crossgenfest, Cross-Generation Relationship, Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Denial of Feelings, Digital Art, Dirty Talk, Fanart, First Time, Flirting, Freckles, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Harry Potter Next Generation, Jealousy, Joggers, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, NSFW Art, Office Sex, Outdoor Sex, POV Draco Malfoy, Post-Hogwarts, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Switching, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-05-31 23:18:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15129914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mzuul/pseuds/Mzuul
Summary: James Sirius Potter is gorgeous. He's also half Draco's age. Getting emotionally involved with him would be a complete and utter disaster. Fortunately for Draco, he's had a lifetime of practice compartmentalizing his feelings. Draco can definitely handle fucking James—young, beautiful, rash James Sirius Potter—with no strings attached.





	Brighter Than the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note:** Thank you Gingertodgers for the Britpick and TDCats for the amazing beta. This was so much fun to write and it wouldn't be what it was without both of your help. Also major thanks to Restlessandordinary for the cheer reading and support during the writing process.  <3
> 
>  **Artist Note:** Definitely had an amazing time doing this and I’m so glad I did. Thank you to everyone for motivating me during the fan art process and screaming sweet things to me!

Draco ducked into the Manor kitchen swiftly, hoping no one had noticed his retreat from Scorpius's seventeenth birthday celebration. He just needed five minutes of peace, a quick breather to himself, before he darted back outside to play the consummate host to every single person either he or Scorpius knew.

"Fancy seeing you here, Draco." James Potter smiled as he spoke, as if he weren't out of place in Draco's home, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he lifted his butterbeer up in a silent cheers before moving it to his mouth and taking a hearty chug.

"I have to wonder how you managed to make it into the Auror training program if you're surprised to see me in my own home."

James coughed, choking on his butterbeer and looking at Draco with surprise. Draco tried not to smile as he lifted his glass of wine to his mouth and sipped it slowly. "Are you being _funny_?"

"I realise this might come as a shock to someone your age, but I am not too old to make a joke."

"You're not that old." Draco felt a strange swooping in his stomach. This wasn't the first time James had said that, especially not recently, but the words felt heavier this time as if bringing them closer to something still unsaid.

"I'm the same age as your father."

James snorted. "I'm perfectly aware of how old you both are. I just don't think it's _too_ old."

Draco felt the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Not too old for what, pray tell?" And fuck that definitely sounded flirtatious. This was an absolutely horrible idea. He could not be flirting with Potter's son at his own son's birthday party, surrounded not only by all of his own friends and family but by a good chunk of James's as well—because where Scorpius was, Albus was, and with Albus came his entire family, apparently.

James cocked his head to the side, sipping his butterbeer again and giving Draco a searching look as if weighing his thoughts carefully. James's face broke out in a slow smile. The sounds of the party around Draco—abstract laughter and the soft chatter of a garden full of people—narrowed to a dull buzz in the background as his attention focused solely on the man in front of him.

For a long time Draco's relationship with Potter had been purely professional. They had been on friendly enough terms for nearly a decade when they were forced to interact at the Ministry or in the public eye, which happened more often than Draco would have liked what with Potter being the Head Auror and Draco being one of the top Curse-Breakers the Ministry had access to. As far as Draco was concerned, "access to" meant "called in to consult on cases the Aurors couldn't handle alone," not that the Auror Department would ever word it that way.

But once Scorpius had started Hogwarts he'd become instantly attached to Potter's middle child. Draco had hoped it would be a fleeting friendship, at first for purely selfish reasons—unsure he was prepared to deal with what it would mean for him and Potter to confront their past for their children's sake. But that first summer home had seen Draco close to losing his mind with Scorpius's _Albus this and Albus that_ every five minutes. It hadn't taken Draco long to realise he needed to get on better terms with Potter, if only for his son.

It'd been slow going at first, but as the years went by Scorpius and Albus became nearly inseparable, which meant inviting Albus and his family to Scorpius's birthday celebrations and even accompanying Scorpius over to the Potters'. Along with these family events had come an unexpected but friendly relationship with Potter.

Draco couldn't remember a time when the eldest Potter child—no, not child, he hadn't been a child for a long time—hadn't been smiling. James had gone from a cocky, headstrong teenager into (though still technically a teenager) a cocky, headstrong nineteen-year-old. Even so, adult James was a world away from James at fifteen. Draco had watched from a distance as the boy's youthful brashneshness settled into a confident self-assuredness with a biting sense of humor that in someone his own age Draco would have found irresistible. Something which, in his most private moments, Draco was able to admit even in James it were nearly irresistible. _Nearly._

There was something about James, about his easy, open countenance and his cockiness that was magnetic. No matter what he did, James was utterly certain it was the right decision and Draco had to admit he admired James's refusal to ever take no for an answer or to ride on his parents' money and fame. Over the years, Draco had heard enough about James from Scorpius and Albus to last him a lifetime: James, Quidditch captain and most popular boy at school, always pulling pranks and never taking anything seriously, and, if rumors were to be believed, who had been caught in every tower at Hogwarts with a different boy or girl. Draco had been sure he and James would have nothing in common. All the same, it was also hard to deny that James's worldview, full of confidence and hope and free of the darker realities of life Draco had lived through, made something about Draco feel light in a way he had never experienced even in his own youth. When Draco was around James it was easy to see why James was popular, why he was so well liked; he had a brightness and vibrancy about him that was magnetic.

Except upon leaving Hogwarts last year, instead of accepting one of the many offers to play Quidditch professionally that James had received from various teams in the European League, he had applied for the Auror Academy. Draco had assumed it'd been Potter's doing, until Potter had confessed over a drink at the Leaky after a particularly nasty case that James had turned down three separate offers to play professionally in favor of joining the Aurors, and Potter had no idea why. It'd been on the tip of Draco's tongue to tell Potter how much weight the desire for a father's approval could hold, but he'd bitten his tongue, not sure he and Potter were at the level of friendship that warranted that kind of emotional honesty.

After that Draco had put Potter's eldest out of his head. James was an adult, _sort of_ , and Draco had assumed he wouldn't run into him much, what with James having gotten his own flat the day after being accepted into the Auror program. But instead of seeing James less he saw him _more,_ because not only was James always at his parents' house when Draco went to fetch Scorpius or came over for holidays and parties, but Draco found he kept running into him at the Ministry as well. Junior Aurors were assigned a trainer during their two-year probationary period, and while James's trainer wasn't his father, James still seemed to be wherever his dad was anyway—which meant he was wherever Draco was when he happened to work as a contracted liaison between his own Curse-Breaking business and the Ministry.

Draco hadn't been sure what to think about James's presence at first, besides mild annoyance at having to keep explaining what he was doing and why. Except that as the months went on he found that James was neither annoying or stupid. He asked a lot of questions, but unlike most people he actually listened to the answers. He seemed genuinely interested in what Draco did and how his services benefited the Aurors when they were unable to deal with dangerous or unknown curses that weren't part of the standard Auror training regime.

The problem was the more Draco came to appreciate James's mind, the harder it was to ignore how much he appreciated his body. James was _mesmerizing._ There was no other way to put it. He had all the advantages of his age and the rigorous Auror training program—nineteen years young and a body that was as strong as it was powerful. Draco had seen James in hand-to-hand training once on his way to the Atrium, had seen James shirtless with his wand drawn on his opponent—sweat dripping down his chiseled body and his eyes blazing with victory, his body thrumming with adrenaline. Draco'd been able to see the dusting of freckles across James's stomach and the thick trail of hair that led down beneath his trousers. James was captivating in his triumph.

That was the first time Draco had Apparated home and touched himself while imaging hazel eyes and mess of wild brown hair.

Draco had come so hard he'd nearly blacked out, his head spinning with guilt and arousal. It'd been years since he'd felt so attracted to someone—even including the years before his divorce from Astoria—and his body nearly burned with the intensity. He knew it was wrong. James was far too young, was the older brother of his son's best friend, Potter's elder son for fuck's sake. Draco knew it couldn't happen again.

But happen again it did. And again. Eventually Draco accepted it as inevitable. He was a grown man and James was an adult. It didn't technically hurt anything or anyone for him to indulge in a few late night fantasies in the privacy of his own bed. He would never act on those thoughts, or so he'd thought.

"Oh, I don't know," James finally answered after what felt like an eternity. "I bet you're not too old for a lot of things. For all the things that really matter."

Draco's mouth was suddenly dry so he drained his wine glass. The reality of what was unfolding between them hit him with the force of an unexpected hex—completely paralyzing—"You have no idea what you're doing. Perhaps you ought to go find Albus or your parents."

James's entire demeanor changed almost instantly, shoulders tensing and mouth turning down in a frown that seemed completely out of place on his handsome face. "Right, how could I have been so stupid as to think I was mature enough to make my own decisions? Well, if you'll just excuse me, Mr. Malfoy, I'm going to go find something a bit stronger than butterbeer."

As James walked away Draco could only curse himself for ever encouraging James at all. He'd thought it was harmless to indulge in his fantasies, to let his gaze linger on James longer than was appropriate these last few weeks. He hadn't been completely certain James had even noticed him looking, and if he had, Draco had reasoned, surely he wouldn't do anything about it. Or so Draco had thought.

That, Draco realised, was his first mistake—underestimating a Potter for their penchant for risky and illogical behavior—because when the fuck had a Potter ever done anything Draco had expected?

His second mistake came hours later after just about every single partygoer had gone home and Scorpius and Albus had retired to Scorpius's room to do Merlin knew what. Well, all of them except James.

"What are you doing in here?" Draco asked, uncertain about how he felt about finding James in his kitchen hunched over a glass of what appeared to be his most expensive whiskey.

"Sorry, I'll leave," James muttered, rising from the kitchen table and refusing to meet Draco's eyes.

"I didn't ask you to leave. I asked what you were doing in here alone." Draco's exasperation rose. James couldn't possibly be serious. He'd flirted with Draco a few times. Well Draco'd thought he was flirting. He hadn't been sure, but he felt sure now. There was no mistaking the way James was looking at him—like he were picturing Draco naked—and it made Draco's own desire flare.

The problem was, aside from the fact that his own blatantly lust-driven crush on James was completely ridiculous, Draco was almost certain that this must be some sort of game for James. Draco walked closer, moving into James's personal space, forcing him to look at Draco or touch him if he wanted to get by to leave.

To his surprise James did both, placing his right hand on Draco's chest and lifting his head to look directly at him. "Everyone wants me to be an adult but they still treat me like a fucking child. I'm not a child."

"I'm perfectly aware you are not a child." Draco's plan to test James was backfiring, as he was the one who felt his self-control being tested.

James snorted, curling his hand into a fist and wrinkling Draco's linen shirt in his grasp. "Could have fooled me. At work you talk to me like an equal but here, outside of work, you treat me like one of Scorpius's little friends from the playground, the same way you treat Albus. You see me as a child."

Draco curled his hand around James's, untangling it from his shirt. James licked his lips, watching as Draco ran the pad of his thumb over the top of James's hand. "Trust me, James, the last thing I think about you is that you're a child. Perhaps I ought to. It would be smarter. Safer. But I don't. I can't."

James leaned in closer, his mouth just a few inches from Draco's and yes, that was definitely Draco's whiskey on his breath as James whispered, "But you do think of me?"

Fuck, this was a bad idea. Possibly the worst idea Draco had ever had and that was saying something since Draco had had some pretty fucking awful ones in his forty-three years of life. Problem was, despite all the reasons it was the wrong decision, all Draco could think about was the single reason it was the right one— _James._

"Yes, I think of you."

Draco's body betrayed his better judgement, his breath quickening and his penis beginning to harden with anticipation as James took one step closer—the heat of James's body nearly intoxicating. "Do you want to do more than just think about it?" James whispered.

It'd been longer than Draco cared to admit since he'd taken a lover, preferring to focus all of his attention on Scorpius and not on romantic entanglements that might or might not lead to something more. Except this wasn't a romantic entanglement. It was simply physical desire. He wasn't delusional enough to think James wanted more from someone his own father's age and even if he did, it was fanciful to think anything long-term could work. James was attractive—attractive to the point of distraction, in fact—and charming, and most importantly, at least in this moment, wanted Draco.

The more Draco allowed himself to think about it the more it made sense but then again that could also have been the wine speaking. He was clearly losing his mind—wanking to images of James and very nearly flirting with him out in the open, standing inches from him in his kitchen with his son and his son's best friend upstairs, and entertaining the idea of finding out what sounds James might make with a mouth wrapped around his cock—clearly he needed a good fuck. James was great, more than great really, but Draco needed to get the itch out of his system and get back to his life. Anyone with a brain would be turned on by someone like James flirting with them so unashamedly.

James inched closer until his clothed cock was pressed up against Draco's thigh, his breath ghosting across Draco's jawline. Draco's cock was half hard now, responding to the feeling of a warm body against his own. James was close enough that Draco could see the dotting of freckles on the tops of his eyelids when his eyes fluttered shut, see the hint of a shadow from James needing to shave, feel the quivering of James's erratic heartbeat.

"I think about you, when I touch myself. Usually you put your hands here," James whispered, reaching out to take Draco's left hand and moving it to rest at the back of his neck then moving his right hand on his arse. Draco indulged himself by letting his fingers stroke at the short hairs at the back of James's neck.

James licked his lips and opened his eyes when Draco didn't pull away, biting back a moan as he rubbed against Draco just once, clearly trying to gauge Draco's reaction. Draco's cock was fully hard now, and there was no going back.

"What else do I do?" Draco asked, now convinced he had definitely lost control of his sensibilities. "When you think of me? Where else do I touch you?"

James swallowed, his hands moving to Draco's hip as he began to move against him now that Draco had made it crystal clear he wasn't going to stop him no matter how ill-conceived this might be.

"You talk to me. When you— _fuck_ ," James groaned, fingers tightening on Draco's hips when Draco walked them both backwards until James's back was pressed into the solid marble countertop, Draco's thigh now wedged between James's spread legs and his hands on James's arse squeezing—one firm globe in each hand, pulling James against him, urging James to rub off on him—as Draco leaned down towards James.

"Open your eyes, James."

James shuddered, eyes snapping open immediately, and Draco nearly moaned himself at the way that small act of compliance had his cock fully hardening in his own trousers. He'd watched James mouth off to his brother, to his friends, to his dad—both in and out of work—to basically everyone. So the idea that he wanted to obey Draco, when to Draco's knowledge James Sirius Potter had never obeyed anyone, made Draco's head reel.

Before James could say another word, Draco brought their mouths together. He had no idea what James had intended to say, but it was either going to make Draco realise how foolish this was—and fuck, Draco didn't want to stop whatever the hell they were doing for all the Galleons in the world—or say something that made Draco come in his boxers like a bloody teenager. Draco couldn't remember the last time he felt so out of control, driven nearly mad with desire by the shameless way James was riding his thigh, needy noises coming from his full lips—sounds Draco greedily swallowed like a man dying of thirst—slipping his tongue into the warmth of James's mouth and delighting in the responsive way James shuddered against him, clawing at his sides and frotting against him erratically.

Draco was surprised to realise that instead of trying to regain some modicum of control, he reveled in the sense of abandon he felt, the sounds he wanted to make held in only by the knowledge that he didn't want Scorpius to come downstairs and find him. Unfortunately, or fortunately for him depending on how he looked at it, James had no such qualms and was making sounds that echoed in the kitchen, making Draco grab his arse tighter, helping James rub off against him.

"Do you like that? You're so hard for me aren't you? You're so eager." Draco let his lips ghost across James's neck, not kissing, just dragging against the sensitive skin.

"Fuck, I knew it. I knew you'd have a mouth on you," James panted, hands abandoning Draco's hips in favor of threading into his hair.

"You have no idea the things my mouth can do, James."

"Merlin's fucking, _fuck_ —" James cursed, inadvertently tugging on Draco's hair hard enough to sting as he thrusted up against Draco one last time, his body stilling as he panted and moaned through his orgasm.

"I should've known you'd be handsy," Draco laughed softly delighting in the tiny puffs of air James was emitting against the side of his face.

James coughed and released Draco's hair, allowing Draco to step back, and shooting him an almost bashful smile when Draco moved a safe distance so as not to be tempted to maul James again. "Sorry."

"I should be, but I'm not."

That seemed to be the right thing to say because James's burgeoning embarrassment dissipated like dying Bluebell Flames—as fleeting as it was powerful.

"What about you?" James asked, surprising Draco when he moved closer, his hands trailing over the front of Draco's trousers.

"You don't have—" but James just shook his head, dropping to his knees and deftly undoing the button and zipper. James's hands were devoid of hesitation as he pulled down Draco's trousers and boxers leaving him standing in his own kitchen with his cock and arse out and harder than he'd been in years.

"I want to," he all but purred, running his hands almost reverently over the fine hair on Draco's thighs, moving his hands up and down them as if he couldn't bring himself to stop touching them before nuzzling his face against Draco's hip. It was on the tip of Draco's tongue to ask if James was sure, but before he could, James opened his mouth and swallowed down Draco's cock, hollowing his cheeks as he bobbed his head up and down, sucking and slurping as if Draco's cock were the best thing he'd ever had in his mouth.

"Merlin, James, you really do have a mouth on you."

James hummed, moving his hand out to grab Draco's hand and depositing it atop his head. Draco took the silent encouragement, letting his fingers twine in the impossibly soft tufts of hair, pulling and tugging and delighting in the way James's messy hair got even messier.

It was over faster than Draco would had liked, unable to stand the hums of pleasure James kept making as James stroked his thighs and sucked his cock. Draco tried to warn him, tugging on his hair and whispering, "James."

James however just sucked deeper, his nose pressing into the patch of hair above Draco's cock as the tip touched the back of James's throat, and then Draco was coming, hips snapping as he fucked James's mouth, fingers twisted in his hair and holding him in place. James seemed to revel in it, moaning around Draco's cock and making him shiver as James just kept licking and sucking until Draco was sure there was not another drop of come left in his body and his cock was bordering on too sensitive. James sat back on his heels, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve and grinning up at Draco from the floor with a self-satisfied smile.

"Don't worry, it was definitely as good for me as it was for you," James said with a straight face, rising to stand. Draco had not felt the frantic need to rub off on someone like a horny teenager since he'd actually been a teenager. Part of him thought perhaps it was something to do with having been with James, but the larger part of him refused to acknowledge that, chalking it up to a too-long dry spell.

"What makes you think it was good for me?" Draco asked with a raised eyebrow. James didn't need to know it was the best orgasm he'd had in a long time, which was honestly ridiculous because it wasn't even that good. James looked down at his jeans and groaned, pulling his wand out of his back pocket and spelling them both clean—a small but considerate act that Draco rather appreciated in a lover.

"Well, usually when a guy comes as hard as you did down the back of my throat I don't hear much complaining." He looked pleased with himself. "But if it wasn't good I'd be happy to offer a repeat performance."

Draco's cock twitched at the idea and he had to stifle the urge to touch himself or James. "You think an awful lot of yourself don't you?"

James laughed. "Nothing wrong with knowing when you're good at something. And I'm good at sucking cock."

James licked his lips and eyed Draco, who suddenly realised that he was still standing there with his softened cock hanging out. Before he could do something about it himself, James was tucking him back into his boxers then stealing one more almost-chaste kiss. "Don't wait up all night for my owl," James teased, walking backward towards Draco's Floo.

"Don't worry, I wont," Draco answered, and though neither his tone nor his words betrayed his feelings, he suspected the smile on his face probably did, if the one James returned to him was any indication.

"You're welcome by the way," James said, grabbing a handful of Floo powder and winking at Draco before disappearing in a whoosh of green flames.

Normally that kind of cockiness would annoy Draco. He hated people who thought too much of themselves. Except James was proving that he possessed traits and skills worthy of the pride he displayed—including apparently deep throating—and rather than annoyance, all Draco felt was the burgeoning rush of something that felt far too much like a fucking crush.

All Draco knew, as he stared at the fire and licked the taste of whiskey off his lips, was that this couldn't happen again.

 

 

 

*******

 

It'd been nearly three weeks since Scorpius's birthday and Draco wasn't avoiding James, it was just that, well, he was avoiding James.

It was easy enough to do. Scorpius was seventeen now and no longer needed to be accompanied through the Floo or Side-Along Apparated to the Potters' house when he wanted to see Albus, which meant that Draco had no reason to visit the Potter household any longer and so had very little chance of running into James there. He also had no open cases with the Ministry and therefore had no reason to find himself on Level Two of the Ministry of Magic—truthfully he had no reason to be at the Ministry, period, at the moment.

These acts Draco could chalk up to pure chance. The pile of unanswered owls sitting hidden away in the bottom drawer of his desk from James on the other hand, that was harder to ignore (though he seemed to be doing a fairly good job of it).

 _I had fun last night_ , the first one had read. Untidy scrawl on a scrap bit of parchment. As if James had sent it in a rush, on a whim. Draco hadn't known what to say so he'd said nothing.

Two days later another one came. _Will you have dinner with me?_ it had read. The handwriting was clearly the same but neater, as if James had taken care to think his words through this time before putting the quill to the paper. It was written on a single sheet of Auror-issued parchment, rolled up and sealed with a green ribbon. The owl that delivered it—James's owl Draco assumed since it was the same as last time—had stayed at his window until Draco had finally snapped and shooed it away. He'd meant to respond to the letter, really he had, except his brain was telling him to say _no_ while everything else wanted to say _yes,_ which meant in the end he said nothing.

A week passed before the same tawny owl appeared at his window again. This time the letter was written on a piece of crumpled paper as if James had balled the note up and thrown it away then tried to smooth it out again. _Didn't take you for a coward._ was all it said.

Draco grabbed his wand and set the letter on fire, an unsatisfactory thrill as the _Incendio_ left his lips.

The owl didn't wait this time, wings opening as it took off in a flurry of ruffled feathers, making its owner's disappointment known with a high-pitched screech as it soared away.

Draco felt a pang of shame as the owl disappeared. James deserved more, but Draco didn't trust himself to do the reasonable thing and stop things before they went any further. Draco'd spent his youth making mistakes. He was too old to keep doing that now. Silence was the only way to ensure he did the sensible thing.

Of course the problem, Draco realised, when his Floo chimed loudly five days later, was that he'd failed to account for the fact that James was both a Gryffindor and still just nineteen and also quite possibly the least practical person Draco had ever met in his entire life. Even Potter had had more sense at that age than his son.

"Is Albus here?" James asked, dusting the soot off his jeans and running his fingers through his hair. Draco tried not to think about the way James's hair had felt beneath his own fingertips—thick and soft, and just long enough to hold onto—taking in the way James's shoulders slouched as he shoved his hands into his pockets. The result was that his jeans slipped lower, revealing the waistband of his boxers and a hint of tanned, flat stomach.

"No, he's not," Draco answered, forcing himself to lift his eyes back to James's face. It didn't help much since there was an attractive blush already spreading up James's neck. "He's at your parents' house with Scorpius. They're doing, well I'm not sure what they're doing, to be honest. I gave up asking a long time ago. He's happy and safe and that's about all I need to know about what Scorpius gets up to with Albus."

"Yeah, you really, really don't want to know what they're doing. I walked in on them before I Flooed over and—" James stopped, his face turning an entirely new shade of red as he blew out a breath, seemingly catching himself. "I mean, er—fuck."

Draco bit back a smile. "Eloquent as always. So if you're not actually here to find Albus, what exactly are you doing here, James? I'd rather thought after your last owl I wouldn't see you unless we ran into each other at the Ministry."

James toed the ground with his trainers. "Sorry about that."

Draco crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall and surveying James. It seemed impossible to find someone so defiant and cocky yet entirely unsure. The more Draco learned about James the more he wanted to know, and that was dangerous. Very dangerous. "Are you really?"

James looked up, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Not particularly, no. You were a bit of an arse."

Draco cleared his throat. "I suppose I deserve that. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I thought about answering you."

"Did you really?" James didn't look like he believed him, and Draco couldn't blame him. "Didn't want to to figure out how to let me down easy?"

Draco thought about the truth, of the fact that he didn't answer not because he didn't know how to say no, but because he was afraid of saying yes. Instead all he said was, "Why did you come, James?"

"Fuck, can I have a drink first? This is really fucking uncomfortable. I don't usually make a habit of chasing people who make it clear they don't want me."

"I can't imagine there are many people who don't want you," Draco said, Summoning two glasses off the bar and a bottle of whiskey. He watched the bottle float between them, tipping itself to pour a generous splash of amber liquid into each glass.

James watched him silently, offering him a tight smile as he took the drink, gulping it down and then groaning. "Fuck, that's awful."

"That is one-hundred-year-old top-shelf Scotch. Awful is the last thing I'd call it."

"You're such a fucking snob you know that," James sighed, lifting his glass and grimacing but taking another swig regardless. "I like that other stuff you keep in the kitchen better."

"Of course you do. That bottle of whiskey cost nearly one hundred Galleons and was from my private supply. You can't possibly think I keep that in my living room to share with just anyone."

"Am I just anyone?"

Draco sipped his own whiskey slowly, debating his words carefully before he spoke. "No, you're not."

James dropped down to sit on the edge of the sofa, cradling his drink between his hands and swishing the last bit around in his glass. "You could've just told me no. I do know how to take no for an answer."

"Has anyone ever told you no?"

James looked up, his brow furrowed before he seemed to realise Draco was teasing him and he laughed. "It's been known to happen on a rare occasion. I hear I'm hard to say no to. Though you didn't seem to have a problem."

Draco knew what would happen if he said what he was thinking, knew the path he was about to lead them both on, and still he opened his mouth to speak. "I never said no."

James's eyes widened and he rose to stand, taking one step closer to Draco. "You didn't say much of anything honestly. Normally you don't shut up. Scorpius said you never stop talking, and Dad once told me you talked at him for four hours about the stabilisation issues of charmed—" but Draco cut him off with a look, plucking the empty glass from James's hands and depositing it on the side table next to his own.

"James, there are about a million reasons why we shouldn't be doing this." Even as he spoke Draco was moving closer rather than farther away.

Instead of looking dissuaded, James's face broke out in a brilliant smile as he closed the distance between them with two strides. " _Shouldn't._ You know how I love when you talk dirty to me. Tell me I can't do something next and watch me do it anyway."

Draco felt the laugh bubble out of his chest before he could stop himself. He'd not met anyone like James in long time, anyone so fucking bold with what they wanted, so unafraid of themselves and their desires; someone who challenged him or could keep up with him. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to feel this way—for his heart to race and his body to flush and his pulse to flutter erratically—just from being close to someone else.

"You are absolutely ridiculous."

James, if possible, smiled even wider. "I think maybe you like ridiculous."

Draco couldn't deny even if he'd wanted to. "Maybe."

This time it was Draco who made the first move, bending his head down to press his lips to James's. James groaned into the kiss, his arms wrapping around Draco's waist and his tongue peeking out to slide into Draco's mouth. He tasted like whiskey and something decidedly minty that made Draco's tongue tingle.

James was an excellent kisser, lips insistent but not forceful, hands trailing up and down Draco's back as he made soft, needy noises against Draco's mouth. Draco swallowed down the noises, his head spinning and his heart rate increasing as James pressed their bodies together, hands sliding beneath Draco's cashmere jumper as he let his nails ghost across the base of Draco's spine.

Draco pulled out of the kiss without warning, his chest heaving. "We have to stop."

James was breathless, lips kiss swollen and eyes bright. Disappointment pierced through them. "But I thought you wanted this."

Draco pressed a chaste kiss to James's lips, then lifted his hand to stroke his thumb over James's bottom lip. "I do. So much so that if we don't stop now my son might decide to suddenly appear in the Floo, and I really don't think he needs to see me fucking you with my mouth."

"Fucking me with your—oh, _fuck._."

"Mmm that was the general idea. I bet you can't stay still while I do it. I bet you're loud as a erumpent and wild as a hippogriff when someone rims you, aren't you?" Draco teased, thinking of James's previous words.

To his surprise, James's cheeks began to flush, the freckles across the bridge of his nose standing out starkly against the pink tinge spreading across his cheeks. "I uh—" James coughed awkwardly, rubbing his face with his right hand then sliding it through his hair and leaving it in even more disarray than before. "—wouldn't know. I've never done it before, or had it done I mean, or, um— _yeah_."

"James—"

"Just because I haven't doesn't mean I can't or don't want to. I'm old enough okay. I'll be twenty next month and you didn't have a problem with your cock in my mouth before so this is no different. I'm not some innocent child."

Draco cleared his throat trying not to smile. "Are you quite done?"

James flushed. "Erm, yeah. Think so."

"Good," Draco said, reaching out to cup James's cheek. James exhaled a shuddering breath. "What I was going to say, if you'd given me a chance to finish, was that you were going to be in for a treat then. You're not the only one who's good with his mouth."

"Fuck," James breathed, leaning into Draco's touch and letting his eyes flutter closed.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind Draco was dimly aware that he should probably be thinking about this more, should be weighing the consequences of what was about to happen. Instead he leaned forward to kiss James again, delighting in the way James's mouth opened to his easily as he wrapped his arm around James's waist and Apparated them directly into his bedroom.

James didn't even falter, not breaking from the kiss nor stumbling at the unexpected Apparition.

"Can we get naked now?" James asked in between kisses, his hands already shimmying beneath Draco's shirt.

"Naked is generally a good idea at times like this. Unless you're so talented you've found a way for me to get my tongue inside your arse without taking your boxers off."

James barked out a laugh, tugging Draco's shirt off roughly then removing his own. "Fuck, you're handsome," James muttered, his hands sliding over Draco's chest. Draco had never been one for false modesty. He knew he was attractive in his own way, even if he wasn't everyone's type; he was used to being praised for his appearance. And yet somehow the words seemed different coming from James—James who said exactly what he thought at all times—truthful in a way Draco wasn't used to.

James touched him as if he couldn't believe he were allowed to, his mouth kissing a path across Draco's chest and his tongue swiping across the hollow above Draco's collarbone as James's hands roamed over Draco's chest.

James's mouth moved lower, his knees bending as he worked his way down Draco's stomach, and for one fleeting moment Draco entertained the idea of letting James continue to his destination, until he realised that meant he might not get his mouth on James. Draco signalled him, fingers sliding into his hair and pulling softly to get his attention. James stopped, crouched down with his mouth hovering near the tent in the front of Draco's trousers, a crooked smile on his face.

"I could take care of this if you want."

"I rather thought tonight I might take care of _you_."

James's face betrayed nothing, eyes staring at Draco in the same playful manner. If Draco hadn't been touching James he might've missed it, missed the subtle shiver that went through James's body at his words—James's head twitching beneath his hand, the small shudder of anticipation that coursed through James's body, the tension in his neck as he licked his lips.

Draco smiled, sliding his hand down to cup James's face briefly before urging him up. James went easily, rising to stand before Draco. James was a few inches shorter than Draco, had to tilt his head up to look in Draco's eyes, and Draco couldn't explain why he liked it, didn't want to think too hard on the way his brain was already mentally cataloging it away with all the other reasons he ached touch James, to find out what kinds of sounds he might make when Draco made him lose control.

They stood there like that long moments, simply watching each other, and though no words were spoken, Draco had the distinct feeling that something intangible—something important—was passing between them. Finally James seemed unable to take it any longer, tongue darting out to lick at the corner of his lip and thick lashes fluttering as he rose onto his toes and moved his mouth impossibly close to Draco's. "Thought you were gonna take care of me."

Though James's words were bold, there was an unexpected hint of timidity in the quiver of his voice, in the ghost of James's warm breath against his mouth. James wanted, very much if the hard cock pressed against his thigh were any indication, but James was waiting for Draco to make the first move—James was giving Draco control—and make a move he did.

Draco groaned, pressing himself flush against James's body and walking them backwards until James's knees hit the bed. James let out of a grunt of surprise as Draco gently pushed him back onto the bed. James scooted back and leaned on his elbows, the muscles in his arms and stomach tensing as he breathed heavily, watching Draco.

"You want my mouth on you, James? Want me to turn you over and spread you open with my hands before working you open with my mouth?"

James's hands fisted in his duvet—the soft white material bunching beneath his knuckles—and nodded. "Yes."

"You want me to press you into my bed, want me to shove my face into your arse as you shove yours into my pillow?"

"Fucking hell are you gonna do it or just talk about it?" James asked, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Draco's mouth turned up in a smile as he pulled his wand out of his pocket and quietly Vanished both of their trousers and boxers leaving them completely naked. James didn't even balk at the change, just opened his legs and kept his eyes on Draco's face, waiting for an answer. "Learning a little patience might behoove you."

James snorted, spreading his legs wider and lying back on Draco's pillow. "If you aren't gonna touch me I can do it myself," James teased, eyes on Draco as he trailed his hand down his own chest. Before he could reach his cock Draco was crawling across the bed towards him, swatting his hand away. "Patience is a virtue, James."

"Who said I had any virtue?" James asked breathlessly, his fingers ghosting up and down Draco's hip. The touch was feather light yet it set Draco's skin afire. Draco's finely crafted control was slipping, and he did not care.

It was ridiculous the way James made him _want_ , the way James made him act—as if desire trumped all logic and practicality—and yet Draco couldn't deny he liked it, maybe even loved it. Draco liked feeling a little out of control, liked the way James made him feel both powerful and powerless.

Fuck, Draco _liked_ James.

He couldn't do that, couldn't go down that trail of thought, so instead he distracted himself by placing his hands on James's hips and urging him to turn over. James acceded, moving onto his knees and resting his forehead on his folded arms. If James were nervous or embarrassed his body showed no signs of it as he lifted his arse high in the air and spread his legs.

Draco licked his lips, his hands caressing the pert globes of James's arse. His skin was warm beneath his hands and Draco dragged his nails over a smattering of freckles near James's crease before using his thumbs to spread James wide open.

James hissed, wiggling his hips.

"Patience," Draco intoned, dragging the pad of his thumb from the top of James's crack all the way down, slowing his movement down as it dipped over the furrowed skin of his hole.

"Fuck you," James laughed.

Draco bit his bottom lip to keep himself from smiling even though James couldn't see him. "Mmm, if you're lucky maybe I will."

"You're all talk," James mumbled against his arms.

"All talk, hardly. All mouth? Possibly," Draco conceded, then without warning he leaned down to drag his tongue along the same path his thumb had just traveled.

This time James didn't speak, but Draco could feel the tension and arousal thrumming through his body, see the precome leaking from James's erect cock and hear his breathing become ragged as Draco followed the same path over and over.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," James chanted so softly that Draco almost believed he didn't want Draco to hear him.

Draco stopped, his thumbs still stroking James's spit-soaked hole as he moved his head, pressing feather-light kisses across the top of James's arse and resting his chin there, watching the play of muscles in James's back as he fought his instinct to move. "You can be loud if you like."

James inhaled a deep breath, his spine rising and contracting before he spoke. "Would you like that?" he asked.

The question took Draco by surprise. Whatever this was they were doing, it had not occurred to Draco even once that James might be trying to give him what _he_ wanted.

"What I'd like," Draco began, moving his hands off James's arse so that he could crawl up and over James's body, covering it with his own so that they were pressed chest to back—his own aching cock wedged against James's arse—before finishing, "is to wreck you."

"Fucking— _fuck_ ," James groaned, lifting his head up off his arms and trying to move back against Draco. "You already are. Merlin just, fuck me, please."

"Mmm, how do you like it, James? Do you like being taken from behind hard and fast? Or do you like being on your back, like being watched as someone presses their cock inside your body bending you in half and making you theirs? Or maybe you like riding cock, like being in control as that hot, hard length slams inside of you as deep as it can go." All the while Draco moved his hips, letting his cock drag up and down against the swell of James's arse, the friction making his toes curl.

James made a choking noise, pushing his head back against Draco's shoulder. "I don't know, fuck, any of them."

Draco opened his mouth when James's words hit him and he stopped moving. "James, have you done this before?"

James tensed, dropping his forehead down onto his arms again and shaking his head. "Please."

"James—" Draco stopped, not sure what to say. "I thought—"

James didn't let him finish, letting out a dissatisfied noise before wiggling around and flipping himself over onto his back and looking up at Draco. His chest was still heaving, his face flushed and his hair sticking up in all directions. He was well on his way to being completely and utterly wrecked, and fuck but Draco wanted to finish the job. But this, this felt decidedly different. Even Astoria hadn't been a virgin when they'd gotten together. He'd taken a lot of things from people in his life, but virginity was not one of them, especially not from someone half his age. It should've been a turn-off, should've made him come to his senses and realise he was clearly having some sort of life crisis if having a nineteen-year-old Junior Auror Trainee in his bed was a good idea.

The problem was, while his brain knew it was a terrible idea, other parts of him told him it felt like a good idea.

James looked so daring lying there, clearly determined to get what he wanted, and yet if the defiant tilt to his jaw were any indication, also clearly prepared to be turned away.

"Just because I haven't done something doesn't mean I can't. That I don't know I want to. It's not a big deal, okay?" He swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing and his hands clenching in the duvet.

"I disagree, James. It is a big deal."

"Fine, I get it. I'll just leave," he huffed, rising onto his elbows, seemingly intent on crawling out of Draco's bed. Something painful clenched in Draco's chest.

Draco sighed. What the fuck was he doing? James was too young and too fucking stubborn. Merlin's fucking beard he was such a fucking Gryffindor it made Draco nearly dizzy. He was difficult and wore his heart on his sleeve. If James weren't careful someone was going to break his heart or his spirit if he kept up like that—saying how he felt, what he wanted all the time, as if he were proud of his truths—it pained Draco more than he could admit to think of someone else being above James like this. Someone who might not give James what he wanted. What he needed.

"James, _stay_ ," Draco said confidently, hands on James's shoulders pushing him back against the duvet gently. James looked wary but let himself be moved. "I didn't say no. I should say no. Fucking hell I should say no. But I'm not going to. I can't. Even my self-control has limits."

James's eyes flared with hope as he unclenched the sheets and let his hands move back to Draco's body, fingers dancing up his spine. "So you're going to fuck me now?"

"No."

James looked confused. "But you said—"

"I said I was going to fuck you. Just not right now. Now I'm going to finish rimming you until you're screaming. Next time though, next time I'll fuck you until you can't remember your name."

James sucked in a breath, fingers stilling in between Draco's shoulder blades. "Awful confident aren't you?"

"You're not the only one who knows what they're good at. And trust me, I'm _very_ good at fucking."

"I do trust you," James whispered. And that did it, the last bit of self-control Draco had been holding onto snapped, and he bent down to crash their lips together, kissing James as if it were the first time and somehow as if it were the last time, his arms moving behind James's knees to lift his legs up in anticipation of putting his mouth somewhere else entirely.

"Draco," James whined into the kiss, trying to capture Draco's lips with his teeth, but Draco just shook his head, pressing one more quick kiss to James's mouth before crawling down his body.

"Hold your legs like this," Draco instructed, replacing his own hands with James's so that James's legs were spread wide, knees pulled up to his chest and arse on display. "I'm going to make you come so hard you'll see stars."

"Do it," James said, knuckles turning white against the back of his thighs as he opened himself up even farther. Draco wanted to stare, but the allure was too strong and now that he knew there would be a next time, Draco contented himself with the knowledge he had plenty of time to admire James's body.

This time Draco didn't tease, instead he dove right in, the muscles in his tongue forcing themselves inside James's hole, just the tip at first as he pushed and pushed, dragging his teeth lightly over the furrowed skin before sucking and licking and pressing. All the while James writhed, the muscles in his arse repeatedly clenching as Draco worked the ring open with his tongue. But still it wasn't enough, Draco needed more, wanted to give James more.

Without pausing Draco murmured a spell against James's skin, feeling his fingers immediately coated in thick globs of lube. He rubbed them together before moving them to James's entrance, teasing his slick finger around the hole, heart rate increasing at the desperate moans James made.

"Please, fuck, please, oh my god."

Draco wanted to tease, wanted to make James keep begging, wanted to make James lose control. The problem was Draco's control was already gone. He couldn't have drawn it out any longer if he tried.

"Fuck," James all but screamed when Draco slid the first finger in, loud filthy noises filling the room as he licked at James's hole, the warmth of his tongue a stark contrast to the cool lube as he moved his finger in and out of James's body. Fuck, Draco had almost forgotten what it was like, forgotten how erotic it was to have a part of him in someone else's body. James was so tight Draco could only imagine what it would feel like to press his cock inside, was sorely tempted to do it. He knew James could take it, knew he could open him up until James's body was relaxed and willing. But he also knew this one time wouldn't be enough. He wanted to have James again, and the only way to ensure that was to make him wait. No, this time his mouth and hands would have to be enough.

Draco added a second finger, twisting them around until he found the pad of James's prostate, stroking it over and over until James was quite literally screaming, his legs falling down onto the bed on either side of Draco's head as his hips lifted off the bed. Draco pulled back to watch, continuing to move his fingers in and out of James until James was covered in thick stripes of come, his chest heaving and his face red as a tomato. James was a complete and utter mess, and Draco liked it. Fuck did he like it.

James took a few seconds to open his eyes, but when he did, the lazy, contented smile he gave Draco had Draco reaching down to fist his own cock. James looked surprised but pleased, reaching out to cover Draco's hand with his own, letting Draco set the pace. Draco knew he wouldn't last long so he did the only thing he could and pulled himself off hard and fast, covering James in his come and muffling his own sounds against James's mouth as he kissed him with a kind of intensity he hadn't known he was still capable of.

James whimpered into the kiss, his sticky hands tangling in Draco's hair as they lay there together, panting and spent, and all Draco could think was that he'd meant to wreck James and all he'd done was wreck himself.

Draco was fucked, completely and utterly fucked.

 

 

 

 

*******

 

 

The next morning, Draco awoke in panic, equal parts relieved and disappointed to find the bed empty. He didn't have long to dwell on James's absence, however, because as soon as he rolled over to head to the loo, he found the spare bit of bit of parchment James had left him on the bedside table.

 

_I know men your age need their sleep so I didn't want to wake you. I imagine I really tired you out last night —_

Draco paused, huffing out a laugh as he recalled the way James had curled up next to him like a needy kneazle after Draco had cleaned them both off, refusing to get dressed or move and insisting Draco had possibly killed him and therefore owed him a cuddle and a warm bed for the night. Draco hadn't even had time to say that yes, of course James could stay, before James's chest was rising and falling slowly in sleep

 

_— I had to work early but I can't wait until next time._

_P.S. I like ~~you~~ your bed._

Draco had promised James he would fuck him next time. _Next time._

The thing was, Draco wasn't entirely sure when next time might be. Was he supposed to wait for James to just show up in his Floo unannounced again? Was James waiting for him to make the next move? Should next time even happen, or should Draco take hold of his faculties and recognize the ridiculousness of continuing this thing—of taking James's virginity.

Draco spent the next five days reliving every sound James had made, the way he'd responded to Draco's touch. Five days of waking up with his pyjama bottoms sticky like a randy teenager, five days of telling Scorpius _"No, I'm not coming down with something, I don't know why I look flushed"_ , five days of taking two showers a day just so he could get off without being interrupted by his son or his house-elves. Five days of imagining all the sounds James might make the first time he felt another man's cock slide inside his body, of the ways James might move beneath him as Draco buried himself in James.

Five days wondering if he'd made the best or worst decision of his life by promising James it would happen again.

Being with James was supposed to get him out of Draco's system, not insert him there as permanently as an Unbreakable Vow. But the more time that went by, the more time Draco spent thinking about what they'd done and what they might do, the more certain Draco was that next time wasn't going to be the only time.

Draco did his best to put it out of his mind, to not let his face light up like a bloody teenager getting their first Valentine's Day card when halfway through his week James sent him a note that read _Work is so busy it can honestly fuck off. I'd much rather be fucking you._

Draco's response was short and to the point. _Patience is a virtue, and virtue is rewarded._

He did not have a wank when James sent him an owl back that read _Oh, I see what we're doing here. You want me to behave for you? I can do that. If you make me._ but only because Scorpius was sitting across the table from him, a bite of stew halfway to his mouth and a curious look on his face.

He did, however, have a wank that night, wrapping his hand around his cock and pulling himself off hard and fast, imagining James beneath him, _behaving_ for him. Fuck that shouldn't have make him come the way it did—too soon and nearly desperate—practically humping his own bed as he rode out his orgasm.

So yeah, Draco was ready to fuck James. At least physically ready. Emotionally was an entirely different story.

It had been years since he'd been with anyone, man or woman, more than once. After his divorce from Astoria just before Scorpius had started Hogwarts, Draco had decided he didn't need a relationship. Instead he focused on his career, on being there for Scorpius every moment he was needed. Which wasn't to say he hadn't had sex, and plenty of it, in his life. But intimacy—relationships—those were much fewer and far between. Though there was no bitterness between him and Astoria, Draco had been unsure he could make that kind of commitment to another person again after their marriage had ultimately failed, especially now that he had a son to think of. He wasn't prepared to bring anyone into Scorpius's life unless he'd thought it might be more. So he'd contented himself for years with random one-night stands and a full life with his friends and family.

That had seemed like enough, because it had to be. But Scorpius was seventeen now and about to enter his last year at Hogwarts in September. Scorpius didn't quite need Draco the way he once had, and Draco couldn't help but wonder if perhaps it might be time he thought a little more about his own wants and needs—something that now apparently included James Potter.

It was these things Draco was musing over a glass of whiskey and a roaring fire in his bedroom when he felt the tingle of his wards flickering seconds before James Apparated in the middle of the room. Despite the fact that it was nearly half past ten at night James was still wearing his Auror robes, there was a nasty looking bruise blooming beneath his left eye, and his wand was clenched in his hand tightly.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked, setting down his drink and rising from the armchair near the fireplace. He wasn't surprised to see James in his room, as he'd sent him an owl just that morning letting him know he'd adjusted the wards for James. He was, however, surprised to see him here looking like _that_ —beat up and distressed and nervous.

James exhaled a deep breath, shoving his wand into his pocket and shaking his head before smiling at Draco. It was a tight smile, not the ones Draco was used to—the familiar lightness in his eyes replaced by something dark and heavy Draco had never seen in James's eyes, a look he wanted to understand—before James closed the distance, hands on Draco's face and mouth on Draco's. It lacked the finesse of previous kisses, something almost desperate in the tremble of James's lips against his own. It made Draco's chest ache.

Draco pulled back, the tips of his fingers ghosting across the bruise on James's cheek. James hissed but leaned into the touch nonetheless as if the pain were worth receiving Draco's touch. "What happened, James?"

"Was just a training exercise."

Draco tutted. "What else?"

"How do you know there was something else?" James asked, sliding his hands beneath Draco's jumper and stroking his hands along Draco's stomach. Draco's muscles quivered beneath James's warm, calloused hands.

"It's my job to see what other people don't," Draco answered, thinking of one of the many reasons he loved his job. He liked picking up on the connections other people didn't see and was good at it.

James licked his lips, eyes focused not on Draco's face but on the hollow of his neck. "It was a training exercise, to gauge our level of commitment. They—" he paused, puffing up his cheeks with air before blowing a shuddering breath out, "—it was designed to test our ability to finish the job even if the people, the _person_ , we cared about was in trouble. Dunno how it worked, the instructor talked a lot about how it would pull from our subconscious, make us choose between our job and saving someone. The spell altered our cognitive awareness so that—it seemed real. The things I saw seemed real." His voice broke at the end.

Draco had known there was more to James than jokes and laughter, had heard enough stories from Scorpius or Albus, had seen the way James was with Albus and Lily when they were little or the way he was with his cousins when they were little. He knew there were layers to James he rarely showed, and the weight of being trusted with one of those layers of James's insecurity was not lost on Draco.

"You were hurt," James choked out, and before Draco could try to make sense of the fact that _he_ was the person James's subconscious had pulled forth as the person to save, the person who was important to him, James was fisting his hands in Draco's jumper and pulling him into a desperate kiss. James's lip was cut, leaving the faintest trace of blood as he sucked on Draco's lip and pulled on him, intent on leading them both to the bed.

"James, you're upset," Draco said, forcing himself to pull out of the kiss when all he wanted to do was deepen it. "Maybe we should wait."

James's eyes flashed with determination, and _there_ was the James that Draco was familiar with. "You promised. Besides I know what I want. I'm not scared of what I want." James pulled him closer by the front of his jumper, his lips hovering close enough that when he licked his bottom lip the tip of his tongue brushed across Draco's chin. "Are you afraid of what you want?"

Draco froze at those words. He hadn't felt like this in longer than he cared to admit, and while he knew it wasn't simply infatuation, the truth of what he was pretty sure it actually was terrified him. Draco had learned long ago not to let _anyone_ get under his skin, but here was James worming his way underneath. If Draco were not careful he knew James would get under more than just his skin—he'd get inside of his heart.

James released Draco's jumper, hands moving up to graze across Draco's cheek. "Are you afraid of me, Draco?"

Draco let himself lean into the touch. "No."

"Then why don't you want this? Why don't you want me?" His voice betrayed none of the insecurity Draco could see written in his eyes. James made it seem simple. He wanted Draco, so he told him. James got what he wanted because he wasn't afraid of what he wanted.

The question was, did Draco want James enough to do this? Because he knew, Merlin he _knew_ , there was no going back from this. Once they did this, it wasn't just drunken fumblings or lust, it was a deliberate choice to come together again and again and again.

James blinked, misinterpreting Draco's silence as rejection and dropping his hands from Draco's face as he took one step backward. "Fuck, sorry...I'll go. I should go,"

"I don't want you to go."

James cocked his head to the side. "Got a funny way of showing it." He didn't sound angry, just confused. Draco couldn't blame him.

"I'm not ready for anyone to know about us," Draco said.

James sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it. His fingers twitched as if they wanted to reach out to Draco and he were holding himself back. "Is there an us?" he finally asked.

"I don't know what we are, James. I want you. Fuck, more than I should. But—"

James cut him off, surprising Draco with the force of his kiss. His lips were demanding, hands desperate as they snaked their way beneath his jumper again—James's fingers moving immediately to the soft trail of hairs beneath his belly button, and yeah, James definitely had a thing for his stomach—as James kissed him as if there were nothing in the world but them.  
"You don't have to know everything first, Draco," he whispered in between kisses, hands moving to the hem of Draco's jumper and trying to tug it off his head. Draco helped him, pulling it off and throwing it on the floor beside his bed.

Draco had a pretty good idea of what he should be doing right now, but it wasn't what he wanted to do. So for the first time in a very long time Draco thought _fuck should_ and moved his hands to the front of James's Auror robes, nimble fingers undoing the ridiculous amount of gold buttons that cascaded down the left side of James's chest. There was a nasty singe mark near the collar—a miscast hex probably—and they were coated in a sheen of what looked like ash. Draco wondered, not for the first time, what exactly the Auror training program entailed. He'd heard rumors of course, but no one outside of the actual Aurors was ever privy to the details of the intense three-year program. Draco knew there was a reason so few people were accepted into the program, and a reason even fewer actually made it all the way through.

He wondered if James had chosen his mission or Draco (because Draco wasn't stupid, he knew it was him James must've seen even if he didn't understand why, even if didn't feel at all prepared to deal with the fact that while he didn't know how he felt, James clearly did). But the words wouldn't quite come out. Draco'd always been bad at this, saying too much or not enough, so instead he let his hands do the talking as they pushed the robes off James's shoulders.

James wore a pair of old jeans beneath his robes. They looked like they'd been washed about a million times—holes in the knees and one across his right thigh, the material so thin it looked like it was being held together by a spell—and a plain red cotton t-shirt. His eyes were hopeful, his breath caught in his throat as Draco skimmed his hands across James's chest until he reached the bottom of the t-shirt. James lifted his arms above his head as Draco undressed him, lips surprisingly silent as moved on to the jeans.

The only indication of James's nerves was the rapid rise and fall of his chest as Draco popped open the button, then undid the zipper, squatting down as he tugged the jeans and James's boxers down to his ankles. Draco let his hands move down the skin, feeling the tremble of strong muscles as his palms ghosted over the dark hair on James's upper thighs, tracing the freckles there and twisting down as the tips of his fingers brushed along the sensitive skin behind James's knees before wrapping around his calves.

Still, James didn't say a word, didn't move, just exhaled slowly as Draco undid the laces on James's trainers, helping him kick them off before stepping out of his jeans and boxers to kick them aside. Draco sat back on his heels and allowed himself a moment to just look. James was beautiful, the light of the fire casting shadows across his tan skin. He had a broad chest with a fine dusting of dark hair, a flat stomach with muscles so defined Draco wanted to spend hours mapping them with his mouth, and a trim waist—his youth and the Auror training had done him well in that regard—and there were clusters of freckles along his collarbones, across the bridge of his nose, and at the hollows of his hips. Draco had never found freckles attractive but something about them on James made Draco think he'd never seen anything so alluring, almost as if they were a map Draco wanted desperately to explore.

James wasn't the least bit bashful under Draco's appreciate gaze. If anything he stood taller because of it. Rather than being turned off by James's awareness of his own attractiveness, Draco felt drunk despite having only had one drink. James was handsome and he knew it. James _wanted_ to be seen, wanted Draco to appreciate the way he looked, and fuck, Draco had no intention of disappointing him.

Draco put his hands back on James's body, the tips of his fingers dipping beneath the top of James's sock. James shuddered as Draco brushed the inside of his ankle before peeling off first the left sock and then the right. Then James was completely naked, hands hanging at his sides and his cock erect, hanging in front of Draco's face enticingly. Draco took in the line of dark hair that started just below his belly button and trailed down to his cock, to the mass of dark curls there and the smattering of freckles along the v of his hip bones. There was even a few freckles along the side of his cock, and Draco groaned at the realisation that James had them _everywhere_.

Draco wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, James breathing slow and even, his feet spread wide, allowing Draco ample opportunity to look, before James laughed out, "You gonna get naked this century?"

Draco felt the corner of his mouth tip up in the hint of a smile. "That was the general idea, yes."

"Oh, good. That's good." James grinned, some of his earlier tension bleeding away as Draco rose to stand before him. James's hands went out immediately to the set of buttons on his wool trousers then stopped there, waiting. James's eyes met his and though no words were spoken the question was clear.

"Yes," Draco breathed, and whatever haze of softness they'd been shrouded in seemed to shatter—James's hands were frantic as they undid his trousers and shoved them down with his boxers all the way to his knobby ankles and off over his bare feet. He was barely naked a few seconds before James's hands were on his hips, pulling him towards the bed as if it were his room, his bed—as if James belonged here.

"Fuck," James groaned, suddenly stopping and pressing himself against Draco. They were only a foot or so from the bed but James seemed to have lost his patience, pawing at all the bare skin he could reach, mouth moving across Draco's shoulder as he rutted against the top of Draco's thigh. His own cock was sandwiched between their bodies, drops of pre-come smearing between their chests every time James moved.

"Bed," Draco said, surprised he was able to get that much out with the way James's strong hands were kneading at his arse while he threatened to draw blood with the ferocity with which he was sucking on the side of Draco's neck. He'd have to conceal it tomorrow before heading to work, and he found he didn't mind the idea of being marked by James at all.

James didn't move though, just kept nipping and sucking along Draco's shoulder as he rubbed against him.

"James, if you want my cock in your arse we need to go to bed now before we come like this."

James pulled back, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. "Are you going to then? You're going to fuck me?"

The fact that there was any question in James's mind about how much Draco wanted him made something twinge in Draco's chest. James who joked that everyone wanted him, but still somehow doubted Draco's desire for him. He couldn't blame him really, he'd not exactly been vocal about what he wanted, and he'd certainly sent a few mixed signals since that first time they'd been together.

"I'm going to fuck you so good that no matter who else fucks you later, they won't ever compare." James made a choking noise, stumbling backward and falling back onto the bed. "I'm going to fuck you hard and deep, going to fuck you until you're screaming my name and can't remember your own."

"Fuck," James groaned, biting his bottom lip as Draco crawled onto the bed.

"Turn over, it's easier like this the first time," Draco instructed, his initial disappointment at being unable to see James's face slipping away as he realised it gave him a perfect view of James's firm arse. "That's it, just like that. Spread your legs a bit and, here—" Draco grabbed the nearest pillow, sliding it under James's hips and allowing his hand to dance over James's cock in one teasing pull before he moved both hands to James's arse. James moaned, hips moving higher in the air.

Draco had to bite back his own moan. James was so responsive. So eager.

Draco's eyes darted around the room for his wand and was pleased to see it sitting on the bedside table. He leaned over to grab it, pointing it at James's arse and whispering a combination of preparation, cleaning, and prophylactic charms. James wiggled a bit as the magic washed over and inside of him, but he didn't speak.

Though fingering wasn't entirely necessary with the spell Draco had used to relax the muscles, Draco didn't care. He loved this part, loved opening up someone's body to make room for him, loved teasing and preparing his partners to the point of incoherence. He loved making them feel desperate for his touch, for his cock.

He whispered a lubrication charm at his right hand, stroking his cock a few times to give it a thick coating before moving his hand back to James's arse. James jumped at the first finger, moaning before it had even slipped all the way inside.

"If you like that, just wait until you get my cock. You're going to love being fucked aren't you," Draco said against the skin of James's back, delighting in the way James's spine rolled when Draco's finger found his prostate. He wanted to fuck James so badly he could almost taste it, but still he waited, adding a second finger. James made a desperate sound, his shoulders tensing as he fisted the duvet and pressed back against Draco's fingers.

"You're, _fuck_ ," James moaned as Draco began to stroke over the pad of his prostate, his entire body shuddering, "you're teasing me."

Draco shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes and tickling between James's shoulder blades. "Doesn't count as teasing if I plan to follow through. And I plan to follow through."

James was right, Draco was teasing him. Just a bit. But Merlin, Draco loved it, loved the way James responded to his touch, the way he opened up for him—loved the way James wanted him. James seemed to have zero qualms about losing his virginity, had no shame or reservations about the way he looked naked or the noises he made, and Draco wondered why he hadn't sex before, wondered what exactly James had been waiting for.

James huffed. "Merlin's fucking tits, just fuck me before I die. Please. Fucking hell, Draco. Please," the last plea was nearly screamed when Draco added a third finger.

Draco wanted to keep going, liked the way his fingers felt inside of James's body and the way James looked trying to fuck himself on them. Problem was he liked it too much, and if Draco didn't replace his fingers with his cock soon, he was pretty sure he was going to come like this just from touching James.

Draco rose onto his knees, removing his fingers and placing his hands on James's hips as he lined up his cock. Draco didn't think it would be possible for James to be more ready, but it didn't change the fact that the first time was always going to include a bit of discomfort, so he went slow, his eyes riveted on the way his cock disappeared inch by inch inside of James's arse until he was buried all the way inside.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked, bracing himself above James, one arm on either side of James's head as he placed several kisses along the clenched muscles in his shoulders, urging him to relax. "Breathe."

"Fuck, that's—" Draco held his breath, expecting James to say it was too much, that it hurt, "Fucking, fuck, fuck it's so much better than I thought. Fuck, move please," James whined, arching his hips back.

That was all the permission Draco needed to pull almost all the way out and then press back in, hard and slow, his stomach flipping uncomfortably at the way James responded. James was, fuck—James was uninhibited—rolling his back to meet every thrust, up on his hands and knees to get Draco's cock deeper. And the sounds, fuck, the sounds—James was loud. Thank Merlin Draco was good at Silencing Spells or Scorpius would've realised he wasn't alone in his room a long time ago. The thing was, Draco was used to vocalizations during sex, hell he liked a fair bit of dirty talk himself—both giving and receiving—but he'd never been with anyone who made sounds the way James did, as if holding nothing back. James moaned and whimpered, gasped and huffed, tiny shuddering sounds and loud desperate shouts. His noises filled the room as Draco fucked him, sliding into James's body over and over until Draco felt like he were the one being fucked, his senses overloaded by the sounds James made and the way his body fit with Draco's.

Draco knew he couldn't last, so he leaned forward pressing his chest to James's back as he kept up with impossibly deep thrusts as he wrapped his still lube-coated hand around James's cock. James let out a guttural moan, his head hanging down, and Draco knew he was watching his own cock slide between Draco's fingers. Draco didn't know James's body well enough yet to know what drove him crazy, but he still knew what he liked, so on a whim he tried it—one last hard, deep thrust as he felt himself tipping over the edge.

Draco wasn't even completely aware of which sounds were his own, though he knew he was being louder than usual, moans and groans filling the room as Draco sucked on the back of James's neck while he continued to come, all the while pulling James off hard and fast. James sucked in a breath, an indiscernible sound as he slammed his fist down into the bed and screamed Draco's name.

Once he was done coming, James whimpered, collapsing in a heap, face shoved into the bed. "M'never moving again," he mumbled into the crumbled sheets, his hair sticking up on one side, and his body flushed and sweaty.

Draco laughed, reluctantly moving off James's body and grabbing his wand off the floor where he must've thrown it at some point, casting a few cleaning charms at both the bed and them before moving back to rest beside James.

James had his eyes shut now, head turned toward Draco, and his body rose and fell slightly with his slow even breathing. Draco was almost sure he was asleep when James cracked one eye open and and grinned at him. Draco couldn't explain the urge he had to touch him again, but he was sure James wouldn't mind, so he reached out to thread his fingers through James's unruly hair and stroked it. James practically purred, his eyes shutting again and his limbs slowly moving as he inched his way closer to Draco until his left arm and leg were thrown over him and Draco had somehow ended up with an armful of James.

Draco's brain was going a mile a minute, wondering what this meant and where it might go, but James's weight was warm and solid, and as he slipped into sleep easily, his rhythmic breathing began to lull Draco into sleep as well.

His last thought before slipping into blissful dreams was that perhaps things would be fine. It was only sex after all.

 

 

 

*******

 

_Only sex_ turned out to be a lot of sex. Often.

Draco wasn't even sure he'd had this much sex when he'd been nineteen himself. James was insatiable, Apparating directly into his bedroom after work several times a week, usually staying the night and disappearing in the early hours of the morning for work, leaving Draco behind half asleep and satiated.

It also wasn't unusual for James to pop through his Floo at least once a week, not five minutes after Scorpius had left to the Potters' house—and how did he always know when Scorpius was with Albus?—a cheeky grin upon his face. Sometimes James would simply smile, helping himself to a half-eaten crumpet directly from Draco's hand and pouring himself a cup of tea as he began to chatter away about his busy day. Other times he was barely through the Floo before he was stripping off his clothing and pushing Draco back against the kitchen table, dropping to his knees and enveloping Draco's cock as if the only thing he was starving for were Draco.

This went on for weeks, and every single time that James left, Draco found it harder and harder to pretend it was only sex. Not when he found himself hesitant to wash the smell of James off his sheets if he knew he wouldn't be by for a few days, or the disappointment that swelled in his chest when he was allowed to eat his entire breakfast alone without someone stealing half of it.

Draco's only saving grace was the fact that this thing with James remained relatively contained. James always came to him—to his home. Draco hadn't been working any major cases with the Ministry recently and therefore hadn't run into James or Potter there. It felt safer somehow to have had all of their encounters occur on Draco's territory.

At least until one cold morning at the beginning of September. It was just a week after Scorpius had left for his last year at Hogwarts that Draco got the letter. He was sitting at his kitchen table nursing his third cup of tea and just finishing the sport section of the _Daily Prophet_ when he heard tapping at his window. It'd been a note from Potter requesting his immediate help on a case—a piece of furniture had been located at a second-hand shop just off the main road in Diagon Alley—and his help was needed immediately to identify the unknown curse before the item could be moved. Which meant that once that job was done he'd have to accompany Potter to help relocate the item to the appropriate Ministry facility as well as fill out the usual pile of paperwork.

Draco's body thrummed with pleasure at the prospect of running into James even though he'd seen him just last night. Then reality had crashed into him. James. _At the Ministry._ James at work. Where his father also worked. In public. Where people would see them. Draco wasn't sure how he was supposed to look at Potter with a straight face when he'd had his son in his bed not twelve hours ago, legs wrapped around Draco's waist as Draco had fucked him until James had screamed his name.

And that was nothing to say of James, who wore his heart on his sleeve. How would James act? Draco'd talked to him about needing to keep whatever this was solely between them. But James was James after all, and one of the things Draco liked so much about him was that he didn't hide how he felt—except for now, when his inability to do so might out them to the wizarding world. Draco'd spent a long time rebuilding his public image and ensuring the Malfoy name was respected once more. He wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with possible fallout when the papers got wind that not only was he sleeping with someone over half his age, but that it was Potter's older son.

Of course, there was always a chance James wouldn't be there. As a junior Auror his assignments varied wildly from week to week. Draco might not see him at all.

Draco didn't have long to mull it over, because not ten minutes later Potter's personal owl delivered a second letter that simply read _Looks like I'll be seeing you today after all. - J_

As it turned out, James was not on hand when Draco arrived at the chaos that was Tutternob's Fine Wares and Furniture at half past eleven. Two men argued out front about whom had to shoulder the lost Galleons from a piece of furniture that couldn't be sold; an elderly witch sat in a rocking chair crying that her favorite pearls had been eaten by the armoire; and a handful of Aurors kept the always-nosy public back from the shopfront that was cordoned off with red tape and a strong Notice-Me-Not charm.

Draco spent the next five hours systematically testing the cursed piece of furniture before he was confident he'd stabilized the magic enough that the armoire could be shrunk and transferred to one of the experimental charms and hexes rooms the Aurors sometimes shared with the Unspeakables.

As far as cursed objects went, this one was fairly mild. Draco had been unable to determine exactly what the curse would do without having any opportunities to establish a baseline for the magical surges it was emitting or the ability to test his multiple theories with any kind of control group. Instead he'd had to content himself with the bare minimum the Aurors requested at the moment, which was making the object safe enough to transport.

Once the armoire had been shrunk it was easy enough to re-stabilize the magic and accompany Potter and the other Aurors as they transported it back to the Ministry.

Then there was the small matter of filling out at least ten different tedious forms detailing all of his findings and his hypothesis about the object in question. By the time Draco finished, he was one of the only people left on Level Two, well him and Potter, who was letting him use his office.

"Do you ever go home?" Draco asked, signing his name on the last form with relish and feeling grateful that this day was finally over. It was nearly a quarter past six already, and Potter still bent over his desk reading case files.

Potter looked up as he snorted out a laugh. "I do on occasion."

Potter looked at him intently—a dimple in his left cheek and a crooked smile—and it struck Draco how much he looked like James. Not identical in looks by any means—James was lankier than Harry, hair much lighter, and of course he didn't wear glasses—but in demeanor, in the easy way they could go from serious to joking, they were the same.

"So, do you have plans this weekend?" Harry asked. The question was nothing out of the ordinary. They weren't exactly close friends, but they were friendly enough for their children's sake and work. Before he'd begun to see James they'd occasionally go out for a pint after a long case, or talk Quidditch over shitty tea in the tearoom. Now, though, all Draco could see when he looked at Harry was James. James writhing naked in his bed. James laughing in his kitchen in nothing but his boxers, licking butter from his fingers and smiling at Draco.

It felt easy to be with James when no one else was around, but now Draco felt the reality of their dalliance crash into him. James wasn't just James. He was someone's son. Someone's brother. He belonged to people other than Draco, and Draco had been a fool to think he could keep their relationship—because Draco wasn't a fool, he could admit now it was one even if neither of them had used those words—separate from the rest of his life. If Draco were going to be with James, there was only so long they could keep this up.

Harry continued to look at Draco, raising one eyebrow and opening his mouth to say Merlin knew what, when there was a knock on his office door. The door swung open before Harry could say a word and in marched James, devoid of his Auror robes and wearing a pair of grey joggers and red t-shirt with the word "Auror" across his broad chest. James's steps faltered for only a second when his eyes landed on Draco, but he recovered quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets and relaxing his face into an easy grin.

"Dad, Draco," he greeted, turning his attention back to his father. "Mum sent me an owl since you're not answering hers and said I'm to tell you that if you want dinner tonight you better bring home potatoes. Now."

"Fuck," Potter cursed, looking down at his watch. "Right, I'd best be off then." Potter stood and nodded to Draco once before turning to James. "I see you've already saved yourself the trouble and showered in the changing rooms after your training." Potter laughed good naturedly. "You still coming over for dinner tonight?"

James shook his head, rocking back and forth on his feet. "No thanks, Dad. I think I'll head home and relax. I must've slept wrong or something last night my back is killing me. Feels a bit like I was rammed by a Erumpent." Potter hummed, turning his back on Draco and James to grab his jacket off his chair. James took the opportunity to shove his hands in his pockets hard—Draco could see the line of his treasure trail, the sharp angles of his hip bones, and the tuft of dark curls just above his cock—could tell without a shred of doubt that James had on no boxers beneath them. Then as if Draco's awkward, burgeoning erection couldn't get worse, James winked at him the cheeky fucker.

"Right, well try to make it to dinner this Sunday. Everyone misses you. This mystery person of yours must be worth it, we never see you anymore."

James stopped rocking, his cheeks turning pink. " _Dad_."

Harry laughed, clapping James on the back. "That's right, I'm just your dad. Not supposed to embarrass you by talking about your love life." He turned towards Draco, as if they might commiserate over parenthood. Draco suddenly wished he had a large glass of whiskey. Fuck. It was as if he'd ingested an entire vat of Skele-Gro: his body was hot all over and his stomach twisted as if his insides were being liquified. "Albus says he's seeing someone but he won't say a word about it. Usually we can't shut James up so I'm thinking this person must be pretty special. Albus said—"

"Okay, that's enough, Dad." If Draco didn't know James's body so well he might've missed the way his shoulders tensed and the vein in the side of his neck throbbed. "Go get your bloody potatoes before Mum makes you eat pot noodles again like last week," James said loudly, putting his hands on his dad's shoulders and practically pushing him from the room. "See you next week, Malfoy!" Potter shouted with a quick wave as he was marched out of the room by James, leaving Draco sitting in Potter's office alone, confused and more turned on than was probably appropriate given the current situation.

Barely two minutes passed before James came barreling back through the door, slamming it behind him and casting a quick Silencing Spell and Locking Charm at the door. "Told him I forgot my wand," James said breathlessly, leaning back against the door and licking his lips. His cheeks were still flushed, and now that they were alone Draco allowed himself to really look at James—to notice the damp hair curling around his ears, the way the soft cotton of his t-shirt hugged his body as if it were spelled on, and the line of his half-hard cock through the flimsy material.

"Seeing someone special then?" Draco asked, surprised at the catch in his voice.

James gave him a tight smile, running his fingers through his hair and making it stand up on one side. This was too much—the tightness in his chest, the way he ached to touch James, to press him back against the door and cover his mouth with his own. He suddenly realised he didn't want James to answer, wished he hadn't asked the question, because he wasn't ready for the answer. Hadn't his father drilled that into him from a young age— _never ask a question you are not prepared to hear the answer to._

James opened his mouth to answer, and Draco knew he couldn't let him. Ignoring the fact that they were in Potter's office, that they were in the Ministry for fuck's sake, that, however unlikely it might be, they could be caught, Draco stood and walked across the room, pressing James back against the door and kissing him.

James groaned immediately, opening his mouth, his warm tongue slipping into Draco's mouth. James tasted liked like the piss-poor tea they kept in the tearoom and the chocolate digestives Draco now knew he loved. He was warm and pliant and responsive as Draco's right hand moved down his chest, slipping below the waistband of his joggers and wrapping around James's cock. James grunted out a noise of pleasure, arching up into Draco's touch and wrapping his left leg around Draco's calf to try and bring him closer. Not that Draco could really get any closer, their chests pressed together and their mouths moving together as he stroked James's cock. Draco felt his own cock respond in lightning speed, uncomfortably hard in his snug trousers as James's cock hardened, precome leaking from the tip as Draco's thumb slid over it.

"Fuck, fuck," James mumbled into the kiss, nearly biting Draco's bottom lip when Draco began to twist his wrist on the upstroke. He knew what James liked now, knew just the speed that made James's breath catch in his throat, knew exactly how hard to squeeze so James's toes curled and his balls tightened. Draco knew James's body like he knew his own, and he exploited that now, pulling James off in mere minutes.

James seemed surprised, though he did nothing but grab Draco's forearms hard enough to bruise as he banged his head back against the door, his eyes squeezed shut as his body shuddered and he came in hot spurts over Draco's hand, and that was it, that was all it took for Draco to come in his own trousers like a horny virgin. It was ridiculous. What the fuck was wrong with him, getting Potter's son off in Potter's office, worse still, coming in his trousers untouched. All it'd taken was a little bit of friction from James's thigh rubbing between his legs as he'd come: at the sight of James's mouth falling open in a moan Draco had felt himself falling over the edge.

James opened his eyes slowly, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he lifted his arms to wrap them around Draco's neck. "You should do that more often."

"Come in my boxers like a teenager? I rather think not. Besides I'm quite certain we do _that_ fairly often."

James laughed softly, pressing a quick kiss to Draco's lips before trailing his mouth down Draco's jawline. "I meant relax, you prat. Let go. Take what you want."

Draco's stomach did that weird flipping thing again, and even though James wasn't looking at him, he shut his eyes.

"I have a great idea," James whispered into the side of his neck, licking across the fluttering pulse point. "Come out with me tomorrow."

Draco tensed. _Out._ "James, you know we need to keep this private."

James pulled back, arms still wrapped lazily around Draco's neck, not to keep him place but as if he just wanted to be as close to Draco as possible. "Relax, I know how to keep a secret. You just...when was the last time you had fun?"

Draco's forehead wrinkled. "I play chess with Scorpius. I read a lot. I have ample hobbies. I also enjoy my job quite a lot. Besides I have fun with you."

James bit his bottom lip, rising onto his toes and pressing his forehead to Draco's. He looked pleased. Draco liked making him look like that. He liked it a lot. "I'm glad but that doesn't change the fact that you're coming with me tomorrow." It wasn't a question this time but a statement, as if James knew he'd win.

"Where are we going?" Draco asked, sighing dramatically and accepting the futility of denying James.

"It's a surprise," James said, voice tinged with satisfaction.

Draco huffed, kissing James and pulling him close.

Draco didn't particularly like surprises, but fuck it, he liked James.

He really liked him.

 

 

*******

 

Despite the fact that James had in fact come home with him and spent the entire night in his bed, Draco still felt nervous about meeting him that morning.

 _Dress casual_ , James had said before kissing his cheek, pressing a scrap of parchment with an Apparation point on it into his palm and Disapparating before the sun rose. Draco had barely been able to choke down his toast and tea wondering what James had planned. Was it somewhere private? Somewhere Muggle so no one would know them?

It was uncanny, the way James made him feel things he thought he was too old to feel again—hope, flutters of excitement just from the idea of looking at someone, a desire for deep companionship. Draco knew he wasn't old, especially not by wizarding standards. But his life, the war, and his divorce had all left him feeling stripped bare and vulnerable, and so he'd pushed aside the idea of finding someone again, focusing on Scorpius and his career. He'd thought falling in love with someone would make him feel defenseless, but being with James made his heart feel stronger. Somehow, though, that was even scarier.

By the time eleven o'clock rolled around Draco had drunk enough tea he'd had to piss every fifteen minutes, lost two rounds of chess to Scorpius, paced the gardens three times, and scared off Mipsy, his favorite house-elf.

With more than a bit of trepidation, Draco closed his eyes and focused on his destination. When he opened his eyes James was already standing there smiling. He leaned against a brick wall, one hand shoved in his jeans pockets and wearing a soft-looking white t-shirt that was thin enough Draco could see the outline of his dark nipples. James's appearance was so welcome, so captivating, it took Draco a moment to realise they were standing in a grungy-looking alley beside a row of even more disgusting rubbish bins.

"Please tell me you've not brought me to this alley for sex because if you did you've got another thing coming, James."

James snorted loudly, pushing off the wall and walking towards Draco. "Please, give me more credit than that. We're going flying."

Draco's eyebrow rose in disbelief. "Did you hit your head in training yesterday? We can't fly in an alley."

James's smile grew wider. "Honestly what do you take me for, an amateur?" James pulled his wand out of his back pocket and began to tap the bricks in front of him in some sort of pattern. The wall shimmered for a few seconds before the bricks clattered, moving apart to make an entryway into, well, Draco wasn't sure what it was into. It looked a bit like a changing room.

"What is that?"

"You'll see." James held out his hand. "Do you trust me?"

 _I trust you more than I trust myself_ , Draco thought, though all he said was, "Yes."

James nodded his head towards the room and Draco felt his feet making the decision before his brain, as he was already walking, linking his hand with James's and letting James lead him inside. Once they'd both stepped through, the bricks shook and clattered before righting themselves, reforming the wall and closing off the path they'd just come from.

Draco looked around, taking in the rows of lockers on one side and the rows and rows of League Level brooms in racks on the other side before he noticed the HolyHead Harpies logo above the showers on the far wall.

"James, what is this?"

"Relax, okay," James said softly, grabbing Draco's other hand and moving to stand in front of him. "There's no one here. I promise. No one is using it this weekend since the team is gone for an away game. Mum still has some pull with the coach and she got permission for me to use the pitch, so we're not going to get arrested for trespassing and we're not going to get caught."

Draco tried to make sense of what James was saying. "You told Ginny?"

James rolled his eyes, placing a chaste kiss atop Draco's frown. "Smile you grumpy fucker. No, I didn't tell my mum. I made you a promise, and I wouldn't break that. I just—," he blew out a breath and looked away. Draco could see a faint blush spreading across his neck. "Might've told her I wanted to impress someone but I didn't tell her who." He sounded almost defiant about it as if he expected Draco to what—to be upset at James wanting to do something special for him?

"James—"

James shook his head, dragging Draco towards the wall of brooms. "Nope, nothing serious today. Not allowed. Today you are going to have fun. You spend too much time thinking and worrying. Just...have fun, yeah?" James's eyes were full of hope as he passed Draco a Firebolt II.

Draco wrapped his hands around the broom handle and tried to recall the last time he'd been flying—probably when he'd taught Scorpius how to fly before he'd left for Hogwarts over six years ago—and felt a thrill of anticipation course through his body at the idea of a broom between his legs again.

Draco had always loved flying, but he'd stopped a long time ago because he didn't _need_ to do it. Scorpius had never really liked flying, and it wasn't a skill Draco needed for his job, so the idea of buying a broom to fly in his garden alone had always felt oddly indulgent or frivolous.

"I'm going to beat you, you know," Draco found himself saying, pleased when James's steps faltered.

James turned to look at Draco over his shoulder, amusement written across his face. "That so, old man?"

Draco's mouth fell open. "You're going to pay for that, James."

James threw his head back and laughed before taking off at a full sprint. Draco wasn't as fast as James, but all things considered, he wasn't that much slower than him either. Still, by the time Draco pushed the door open to follow James outside, James was already throwing his leg over the broom and kicking off into the sky.

Draco felt rooted to the spot, mesmerized by the way James's hair looked—the sun reflecting off it and making it look almost auburn as it blew wildly in the wind—but most riveting was the way James threw his arms out wide and lifted his face towards the sun in a smile. Draco had only ever known a few people who could fly that straight without holding onto their broom, and he wondered not for the first time why James had chosen to become an Auror instead of playing Quidditch when he was clearly born to be on a broom.

"Are you coming or has my prowess rendered you talentless?" James shouted, angling his broom down and flying close to Draco. Looking far too pleased with himself, he began to do slow, lazy laps around Draco.

"I was simply assessing the competition," Draco replied, throwing his own leg over the broom and kicking off into the air until he was hovering above the ground next to James.

"So you admit I'm competition then?"

Draco pretended to think it over. "Depends, are we racing or catching a practice Snitch?"

James smiled so big it looked like half his face were made of teeth, his eyes crinkling in the corners. Draco had never wanted him more. "Best two out of three?" he suggested, pulling a Snitch out of his pocket. Draco watched as the wings snapped out and it fluttered in place above James's palm before zipping away towards the sun.

"One, two—" but before James could say three Draco had taken off, speeding away across the other side of the pitch.

"Oi, you cheat!" James laughed, swerving his broom in the opposite direction and taking off in search of the Snitch. Things went like that for a long time, both of them looking for the Snitch until James took off into a steep dive, pulling up seconds before he crashed into the ground with the Snitch in his hand. Draco didn't want to admit that he'd been watching James's arse on the broom instead of looking for the Snitch.

The next round Draco made sure not to watch James. James had definitely worn those particular jeans on purpose, since they hung so low on his hips that when he leaned forward on his broom his t-shirt rose up, and Draco could see the small dimples in his lower back and the row of freckles just above the curve of his arse. Draco forced aside all thoughts of James and just let him be. Draco closed his eyes and focused on the wind whipping across his face and warmth of the sun, and when he began to fly he felt lighter than he had since the first time his father had taken him out on broom.

James somehow still caught the Snitch again and Draco found he didn't care. He was having fun. A lot of fun.

Even though James had already beat him, they let the Snitch go again, racing each other around the pitch. Draco liked the way his own laughter sounded mixing with James's, echoing around the stadium.

Draco wasn't sure how long they kept it up, but by the time he followed James down to the grass his arse was sore, his throat was dry, and his heart was full. They landed side by side, James bumping into his shoulder playfully.

"Have fun?" James asked. He looked like he knew the answer already, but Draco knew he wanted to hear Draco say it anyway.

"Yes, I did. Thank you."

James blew out his cheeks. "Oh, you don't need to thank me," he said. "Besides it's not over yet."

Before Draco could ask what James meant, he pulled something out of his pocket and laid it on the grass. Then he reached for his wand from his back pocket and enlarged what turned out to be a red-checked blanket and a basket of what Draco strongly suspected might be food.

"Did you make us a picnic?" Draco asked, wondering why that made his chest feel so funny.

James refused to look at him, rubbing his hand on his cheek before shaking the blanket out and plopping down onto the corner. "It's just...it's a blanket and food that happens to be in a basket. S'not a big deal."

Draco wanted to disagree, but he strongly suspected that for whatever reason, James did not want to be called on his romantic gesture. Draco understood all too well being unable to face your feelings, so he let it go, stretching his long legs out as he sat down besides James on the blanket. The sun was warm, but James's knee pressed into his thigh was warmer.

"Let me guess, beer and sandwiches?"

James's lip quirked up in the corner. He didn't answer but Draco's stomach grumbled in anticipation as James opened the basket, pulling out strawberries, a plate of sandwiches on thick slices of what looked like homemade bread, and two cans of Carling. It wasn't fancy, the opposite really, and Draco was surprised to realise he would have been disappointed by anything else.

They sat in silence as they ate, working their way through almost all of the sandwiches and leaving the basket of berries empty. By the time his beer was gone Draco was positive he couldn't eat another bite even if he tried, so he laid back on the blanket, crossing his arms behind his head and looking up at the clouds that were moving across the blue sky. He wasn't tired exactly, but his limbs felt heavy, his brain slow as warm contentment clouded his thoughts.

His eyes were fluttering shut when he felt James moving, and then James was straddled his waist, leaning over him and grinning. "Did I tire you out? You need a nap?"

Draco felt too relaxed to argue, so he laughed instead, lifting his hands to slip beneath the hem of James's t-shirt and delighting in the way the muscles in James's stomach quivered familiarly beneath his touch. "Why didn't you play professionally? You're certainly good enough."

James didn't say anything for a long time and Draco wondered if he shouldn't have asked, when James spoke. "I love to fly. It makes me happy. I can't imagine ever stopping. But—" he appeared to be thinking, chewing on the inside of his cheek before he spoke again, "It's easy for me. So many things are easy for me. I don't want an easy life. I wanted a challenge. I want—I want to know every moment of my life, everything I have, is something I chose. I want to know it's something I worked for. Something I deserved."

"You deserve everything," Draco found himself whispering.

James seemed to stop breathing, and Draco's entire world felt honed in on the catch of James's breath and his eyes on Draco's. Draco didn't know what the look in James's eyes meant, but it made his body feel too big and too small all at once.

"Draco, I—" James stopped and instead leaned down to kiss Draco. The tips of his hair tickled Draco's forehead as James's lips moved against his, languid and easy, their cocks rubbing together achingly slow as James's moved his hips back and forth, kissing Draco with the same unhurried pace as he rutted against him.

Based on the way James had responded to Draco's words, he had expected him to be needy and frantic, but instead James kissed him as if he never wanted this moment to end. His mouth was soft, his touches gentle.

When James pulled back to tug his t-shirt off, Draco couldn't stop his hands from exploring James's chest. James didn't try to lean down for another kiss or urge Draco's hands towards his erection. Rather, he stayed more still than Draco had even seen him, sitting atop Draco with his eyes shut, head tilted back to the mid afternoon sky and his mouth hanging open, emitting the softest sighs of pleasure as Draco's fingers traced every inch of skin. He drew his hands across James's collarbones, thumbs dipping in the hollow there before moving across James's body, the pads of his fingers swirling in a circle over his ribs and the tips of his nails lightly scratching over his quivering stomach muscles.

Draco couldn't explain what was different, but he knew he wasn't the only one feeling it. After so long hiding in shadows, kisses stolen in the dark of night and hurried goodbyes before they were caught, touching James out in the open like this felt like a revelation. It didn't matter that there was no one here to see them, they weren't hiding. Draco wasn't hiding.

It felt like ages before they resumed kissing, James's body warm and heavy above him. Draco whined softly in displeasure when James moved off him, but James only grinned, rising to stand and removing the rest of his clothing. Draco knew James was beautiful, knew his body like the back of his hand, but nothing could've prepared him for the rush of feelings at seeing James standing before him like that—bare toes wiggling in the grass, the breeze ruffling the fringe that had fallen into his eyes, and the sunlight dancing across his tan skin.

Draco had spent the last few months teasing James about being impatient, but this time it was Draco who felt the heedy rush of _now_ and _I can't wait_ as he slid his hand into his pocket, fingers curling around his wand as he quietly spelled away his own clothes, unable to even take the time to undress himself.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," James murmured, and his eyes held so much affection Draco had to look away, had to roll over on his stomach, delighting in the way the warmth upon his back as he lifted his hips in silent offering. They'd not done it like this before. Draco wasn't sure why. Draco liked fucking James, and James made it abundantly clear he liked being fucked. But in this moment Draco knew he had something he wanted to give, something he wanted James to take.

James's knees dropped to the blanket almost immediately. He crawled closer, his hands splayed out on Draco's skin as they caressed Draco's arse and up his back. "Are you sure?" James asked.

"Yes," he answered, wondering if there'd ever be anything in his life he was more certain of in that moment than that he wanted to belong to James.

James's eyes roamed over his body, his desire for Draco, his emotions, shining brighter than the sun. Draco felt tempted to close his eyes, but he resisted, resting his cheek on his folded arms and watching the wind whip through the blades of grass as his arse tingled with James's magic, as James murmured words of appreciation and desire against his skin. James was gentle with him, almost too gentle, fingers moving inside of Draco's body until his body was thrumming with desire, yet somehow relaxed. He wanted James, needed more, but it was hard to feel desperate when he knew he was getting what he wanted, when the heat in James's eyes and the tenderness of James's touches had Draco feeling as if he were floating on a cloud.

It wasn't until James's cock was finally, fucking finally, sliding inside his body, until Draco's eyes fluttered shut of their own accord and James's voice filled the air with heady sounds of pleasure as he fucked him—James hands and mouth on every inch of his warmed skin—that the truth hit Draco; he was in love.

He was in love.

 _Fuck_ , he was in love with James.

 

 

 

*******

 

 

Draco spent the next few weeks leading up to the Ministry's Annual Autumnal Ball wavering between pure elation and complete and utter panic at realising he was arse over tit in love with James.

James who, for his part, had acted no differently since their flying date and subsequent fucking in the grass. James who spent more and more nights in Draco's bed until Draco wondered why either of them even pretended James might not end up there. And unlike when things first began, they didn't even always have sex. Well, they still had sex, and a lot of it too. Except Draco knew that was not the only reason James came. There were plenty of nights where James barely made it through the Floo, looking exhausted and disheveled, barely shucked off his clothing until he was in nothing but his boxers and crawled into Draco's bed and fell asleep, wrapped around Draco like a kneazle.

James, who Draco found it harder and harder to watch leave each morning before the sun rose. James, who Draco saw multiple times at the Ministry laughing with his colleagues or sparring in the training room—which truthfully was on the opposite side of the Ministry and completely out of the way, but Draco found excuses to walk by anyway, desperate to catch a glimpse of James sparring and sweaty.

Draco wasn't sure if it made him feel better or worse to realise that James had clearly already known how he felt about Draco, that James must have known for a long time. Because he knew now what that look in James's eyes meant. He knew that James, whom Draco had spent years watching from afar, whom everyone always assumed was impatient and imprudent, was being patient now—was being careful with Draco's heart.

The closer the Ministry Ball got, the more Draco contemplated not going at all. He knew he couldn't take James as his date. Everyone of importance would be there, including the press, and coming out there would ensure it was on the front of every paper the next morning and on the tip of everyone's tongue. But the idea of having to go without James, to pretend he didn't want James on his arm, made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

The night before the Ball, James was unusually quiet, sitting in the middle of Draco's bed, naked and wrapped in nothing but Draco's crisp white sheets. He had Draco's invitation—which he'd had shoved in the drawer of his bedside table—in his hands.

When Draco walked into the room, towel around his waist, freshly showered and ready to devour James, James jumped, shoving it back in the drawer and leaning back on the bed and smiling. Draco dropped his towel, crawled onto the bed and covered James's mouth with his own, pressing him back into the cool sheets and delighting in the familiar way James's body curled around his own.

It wasn't until later, as James slept soundly with his head upon Draco's chest, that Draco let himself acknowledge that something had been missing from James's smile.

The next morning when Draco awoke it was to an empty bed. James was gone, having left a hastily scribbled note that he'd been called into work early but would see Draco at the Ball. Draco had hoped to catch a moment alone with James. Unfortunately it seemed as if everyone at the bloody Ball wanted James's attention, which truthfully Draco could understand. Unlike most of the witches and wizards in attendance who had chosen to wear dress robes, James wore a Muggle tuxedo, and not just any tuxedo but one that practically screamed _look at me_ , and look at him people were. Plain and simple wasn't enough for James. James's trousers were simple enough at least, plain black—and tailored so perfectly they looked painted on—and Draco spent at least half the night mesmerized by the way James's arse and thighs looked. His jacket on the other hand was anything but simple. It was a deep, rich red velvet with black lapels that complemented his complexion and made the freckles that dusted his neck and the bridge of his nose seem to stand out even more. Beneath it he wore a crisp white shirt and a sharp looking bowtie. James's hair, usually an untameable mess, had somehow been shaped into some sort of swoop to the side that made him look like he'd stepped out of _Witch Weekly's_ best dressed. He was breathtaking.

"You're staring, darling." Pansy's words cut through his thoughts, her voice smoother than the bourbon in her cocktail, her eyes narrowed. Draco could still remember the first time Pansy had ordered an Old Fashioned on her sixteenth birthday when they'd snuck out to go clubbing, drinking it as if the entire world would see her act of defiance against her parents for daring to drink a Muggle drink. Her parents had miraculously _not_ found out, and the world hadn't ended, at least not over that. They'd survived the war and their friendship, though strained for a few years as they found their post-war place, had flourished. "You know people will start to talk if you don't take your eyes off Potter."

"I am not staring at Potter. He's on the other side of the room talking to the Minister."

"Oh, my mistake I didn't realise we were playing the game where we say things that aren't true. Wonderful, let me have my turn." The tip of Pansy's tongue darted out to lick her perfectly red lips and smiled at Draco. "This is the most interesting Ministry Ball I've been too yet, and I'm so glad we came."

Draco felt the corners of his mouth threaten to turn up in a smile despite himself. "You are absolutely horrible, and I hate you. I don't know why you're my best friend."

"I'm your _only_ friend," Pany teased.

Draco snorted, running his index finger around the rim of his now-empty glass and wishing one of the waiters would reappear. He desperately needed a second drink if he were going to make it through this entire evening. "I wasn't staring at Potter. You and I both know he and I have a perfectly amiable working relationship now and have for years."

Pansy coughed loudly. "You are not nearly as subtle as you think you are, Draco." She lifted one elegant eyebrow, her lips descending on the rim of her drink. Draco could feel her drawing out the moment, waiting for Draco's curiosity to get the better of him.

It took fewer than sixty seconds of Pansy quietly sipping her drink before Draco snapped. "Fine, what the bloody hell do you mean by that?"

"What I mean," Pansy began, depositing her empty glass on the nearest table and linking her arm with Draco's, "is that you haven't been able to take your eyes off an entirely different Potter all night."

Draco opened his mouth to deny it, then snapped it shut. He'd suspected Pansy might know about his dalliance with James, but he'd hoped he was wrong. She'd been out of the country up until this last week so he'd thought he had more time before she figured it out.

Pansy tightened her hold on him, placing her other hand on his forearm and leaning in closely. "You're playing with fire, Draco. He's a child. Nearly Scorpius's age—"

Draco bristled at the reminder. As if he wasn't perfectly aware how old James was. As if he couldn't tell every single time he laid eyes on James's youthful face and fit body—devoid of the lines of age and worry that graced his own. "He's an adult, Pans. He's twenty next month."

"Oh good, so only half your age." Her words were sharp, but her voice was kind. Draco knew she worried about him.

Draco covered her hand with his own, leading her out onto the dance floor. She followed without question, the heels of her shoes clacking on the floor as her midnight-blue dress robes skimmed the floor.

"I'm not saying I am seeing him," he began, twirling her in a graceful circle, "but if I were, I would be perfectly capable of handling myself. I'm not going to cause a scene. Merlin knows I'm smart enough to know how to keep my love life discreet, and I won't leave him broken-hearted."

Pansy wrapped her arm around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder as he spun her around slowly. "It's not his broken heart I'm worried about."

Draco's feet faltered, nearly stepping on Pansy's robes. As the song ended she pulled back and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

The orchestra began to play another song, and though they didn't begin to dance, neither did they move off the dance floor. "You really care about him, don't you?"

Draco cleared his throat. He'd never been able to lie to Pansy. "I think so."

Pansy turned her head, and Draco followed her gaze, watching as James threw his head back and laughed loudly at something one of the other junior Aurors had said. He stopped laughing when he noticed them staring, a light blush spreading across his cheeks as he ducked his head with a failed attempt to hide his smile.

"Is he worth it?" she asked.

Draco thought of all the things he could lose—respect, potential jobs, his weird friendship with Potter—and closed his eyes as he exhaled. Then he thought of what he had, thought of James, and knew it wasn't even a question. " _Yes_."

Pansy puckered her lips and sighed, taking Draco's hand and leading him off the dance floor. "Right, well, then you might want to do something about _that_." She nodded her head towards James and the person he was talking to. Draco didn't know the other man's name, but he'd seen him in the training room enough to know he was one of the other Auror trainees. He had bright blue eyes and a head of wavy light-brown curls. His laughter carried across the room as he moved forward, placing his hand on James's chest as he leaned in to whisper something that had James snorting in laughter, nearly spitting out his drink.

Draco's stomach flipped. It felt like he was burning up with Fiendfyre and being hit by a Freezing Spell at the same time. It wasn't that he was angry, how could he be? James was allowed to have friends, to laugh and enjoy his time with others. But this other man was so clearly flirting with James, was allowed to touch James and laugh with him in the middle of a crowded room, and not a person aside from Draco seemed to notice. And why should they? They were equally matched in age and respect. They'd look good together. They wouldn't cause a stir, and James's face wouldn't be plastered across the front of every newspaper if he were to date this man. The thought of James with someone else made Draco feel sick, made his chest feel tight and his hands twitch.

James was _his._

James's eyes were on his as he started to walk out of the ballroom and Draco wordlessly followed. Once outside Draco took two steps towards James. If he took two more they'd be embracing, but he kept enough distance that he could keep at least a small bit of his wits about him. At least enough to say what needed to be said. "I was unhappy. You seemed to be having a wonderful time all night without me."

"Draco—" Draco shook his head, holding up his hand.

"Just let me finish, _please_. I'm not unhappy with you. I'm unhappy with me. You were having a wonderful time all night and I wasn't, and that's because I wouldn't let myself do what I wanted to do all night which was to be standing next to you. To be touching you. To make sure no one else held any delusional ideas that they had a chance with you because you're taken."

James inhaled sharply, licking his lips. "Yeah?"

Draco couldn't stand it one second longer and closed the distance between them, pulling James firmly against his chest. James huffed out a breath of laughter against his shoulder, his long arms encircling Draco's waist.

They stayed like that for long moments until Draco pulled out of the embrace, cradling James's face in his hands. "You have no idea what you do to me, do you? Fuck, I've been watching you all night. Watching other people watch you. And they don't know you're mine. Fucking hell, James, they don't know you're mine." He knew he sounded desperate, and he didn't care.

Draco crashed their lips together, tangling his fingers in James's hair. No doubt he was ruining whatever work James had gone to in order get his hair to obey him, and Draco loved it, loved running his fingers through James's thick hair and tugging softly into disarray. He liked knowing that the next person to lay eyes on James would know _someone_ had done that to James. Someone had ruined him.

"Fuck, Draco," James whimpered, his hands fisting in the front of Draco's midnight-blue dress robes. He was wrinkling the silk and Draco didn't care. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he realised they'd been seen leaving together, that when they both went back into that ballroom looking utterly disheveled everyone would know they'd been together. The idea of people knowing James was his made Draco's magic positively thrum around them, the air crackling.

Draco maneuvered them both sideways, holding James up as he stumbled towards the edge of the garden, his mouth never leaving James's, swallowing down the sounds he made as he continued to slowly back James up turning them sideways and around the corner of the building until James's back collided with the brick wall. They were still out in the open, could still be caught, but now at least they were out of sight should anyone else happen to come outside. The illusion of privacy. The air was cold, the scent of jasmine and roses filled the air, and all Draco could do was watch the rapture spread across James's face as Draco's nimble fingers undid his bowtie, then the top few buttons of his silk shirt.

"I've wanted to do that to you all night," Draco whispered before moving his mouth down to the exposed skin at James's neck, sucking hard enough he knew there would be a visible mark there if he didn't stop soon. He sucked harder.

"Don't stop," James begged, hands fumbling at the intricate buttons that ran down the center of his dress robes.

"Didn't plan on it," he told him breathlessly, removing his mouth only long enough to speak before resuming his ministrations. He placed his palms flat on James's chest, running them down James's body until he reached James's trousers and was forced to reluctantly pull his mouth away from James's neck so that he could shove James's trousers and boxers down to his knees.

Draco took a moment to appreciate the sight before him—James's hair screamed _just ravished_ , his buttons were undone at the neck, and the hem of his shirt barely covered his cock that was leaking precome and poking out of the bottom. James's thighs trembled, his chest heaved, and his trousers and boxers pooled in a heap around his muscled calves.

James looked utterly wrecked already, and fuck did Draco want to wreck him even more.

"You're mine," Draco whispered, trailing his fingers down James's shirt. James's pupils were blown wide, his mouth parted, and a small groan left his lips at Draco's words.

"Show me then." James undid the last button on Draco's robe so they fell apart, pushing the robes open so they hung off his shoulders as the cold air hit his chest, his cock twitching in his boxers. " _Show me_."

Draco's heart fluttered rapidly and his ears rang. Fuck.

Draco let go of James to shove his own boxers down around his thighs before maneuvering James until he faced the wall, his hands braced against it and his legs spread as wide as they would go. His suit jacket was tight across his shoulders and the firm globes of his arse were peeking out from the bottom of his shirt. Draco's mouth watered.

"Are you ready for me, James? Want me to take you right here? Want me to fuck you like this where anyone could find us? Where anyone could see how much you want me?"

James shuddered, dropping his head between his arms. "Yes," he whispered.

Draco touched the wand hidden up his sleeve, murmuring a preparation and protection spell. James shivered at the magic, arching his arse back towards Draco. Draco licked his lips and cast a lubrication charm, cock throbbing with anticipation as a few globs dripped out of James's arse, and James moaned. Draco reached down, wiped up the excess lube out of the crack of James's arse, and wrapped his fingers around his own cock, coating it in the thick substance.

"You want my fingers, James? Want me to make you beg?" Draco asked, pressing his chest to James's back, his cock sliding along the crack of James's arse and brushing up against his balls.

"Fuck," James groaned, wiggling his hips for more friction. "No, just, fuck—just fuck me now please. I want to feel it."

Draco exhaled a shaky breath against the back of James's neck. The preparation spell was enough that it never hurt James, but it was still tight, you still felt it more than if you used your fingers a bit. Usually James loved when Draco fingered him, when Draco spent so long opening him up that James was nearly screaming, his hole loose and open for Draco. But sometimes, sometimes James wanted it bad, wanted Draco to fuck him like this—had confessed he liked the burn, liked the way his arse was a little sore after, liked feeling like Draco's cock was still in him hours later—and fuck did Draco like it too. There was nothing that got Draco hot and bothered faster than knowing how desperate James was for him.

"You're beautiful like this, James. So beautiful," Draco murmured, kissing the side of James's neck before sliding James's shirt up his back to watch the play of muscles as he arched back towards Draco.

"Please," James begged.

"Fuck, James." Draco breathed, his chest tight. "Fuck, I love you," he choked out as he pressed his cock inside of James, the slick warmth and pressure enveloping him. Draco knew there was no way he was going to last.

James made a desperate sound, his arms trembling against the wall as if he could barely hold himself up.

Draco pulled him back against his chest, wrapping his arms around James and running his hands up and down James's chest and down his stomach, fingers twisting in the curls above his leaking cock. "I love you," Draco repeated, lips hovering near James's ear.

James turned his face to shove it in the side of Draco's neck. His breathing was labored as he worked his hips back and forth fucking himself on Draco's cock. "Draco," he stammered, his breath warm against the pulse point in Draco's neck. "I love you. So fucking much. Fuck, thought I might actually die not saying it. Fuck, Draco, please. Please, please."

Draco's hands tightened on James's hips, his heart about ready to burst out of his chest at James's words. He knew, of course, how could he not with the way James looked at him? But knowing it and hearing it were entirely different.

"You feel so good. So tight. So hot. I love the way you take my cock. Love everything about you. You're so desperate for me aren't you, James? You want me so bad, don't you?"

James choked out a sob, hands fisting uselessly at his sides as if he didn't know what to do with them. Draco knew the feeling. For all his talk of James being desperate, Draco was the one who felt close to losing control.

"Touch yourself. Wrap your hands around your cock and stroke it the way I do, James, nice and slow." The last words were practically purred against the top of James's head.

James nodded against Draco's shoulder, his hips snapping back and making the most deliciously filthy sound as their skin slapped together. Draco tilted his head down to rest his chin on James's shoulder, watching the way the head of James's cock slipped through his closed fist, the precome leaking out and smearing on his tanned skin as James fucked his own hand while fucking himself on Draco's cock.

"You're so close," Draco whispered, recognizing the way James's movements began to falter and the small catches in his breath. "Let me," he murmured and pushed James's hand off his cock, replacing it with his own.

"Fuck," James all but screamed, his moans echoing through the night as Draco's fingers curled around James's cock, stroking it firm and fast, just the way he knew would tip James over the edge.

"You're mine, James. _Mine_ ," he asserted, twisting his wrist. James gasped, pounding his closed fists against the wall as he came, his release coating Draco's fingers and his shirt, stripes of it blemishing his beautiful jacket and painting the wall in front of them.

Draco's own release was dangerously close, the tingling starting at the base of his spine and in his thighs, his stomach fluttering madly as he pulled almost all the way out and slammed his cock back into James. James whimpered in post-orgasm sensitivity, head dropped back on Draco's shoulder and his eyes fixed on Draco's. He was boneless in Draco's arms, spent and pliant, and there was a look of such adoration on his face that in the next stroke Draco felt himself coming, spilling himself inside of James as he dropped his forehead onto James's closing his eyes and inhaling the familiar scent of James's sandalwood shampoo.

They stayed there for a long time, neither of them in any hurry to move. It wasn't until Draco heard voices—a couple apparently passing by the open doors, their voices carrying into the garden—that they reluctantly separated.

Draco pulled out his wand, casting several efficient cleaning charms at both James and himself.

"Thanks," James said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a cheeky smile as he pulled up his boxers and trousers. Draco followed suit, quickly pulling up his own boxers and doing up the buttons on his robe with a quick charm, leaving him plenty of time to watch as James tucked in his shirt, redid his buttons and fixed his bowtie. By the time James was done, the only evidence that he'd been recently fucked into incoherence was his mess of hair which, despite James several attempts to flatten it, refused to do anything but stick up in all directions as if someone's hands had just been in it. Draco liked his hair better like that anyway.

James straightened his jacket, popping the buttons at his waist into place before looking up at Draco with a smile, the one Draco now recognized as his public smile. The smile that said _I'm happy and nothing bothers me_. The one that was a lie.

"So, did you want to go in first or should I? I think if we space it out by a few minutes then no one will pay any attention." James asked.

Draco paused, choosing his words carefully. "I thought we might go in at the same time."

James sucked in a breath, the surprise on his face clear as day. "You mean _together_?"

Draco cleared his throat and ran his hands through his hair feeling nervous. "That was the general idea, yes."

James's eyes lit up as chewed on his bottom lip. "My mum and dad are in there. The Minister is in there. Fuck, everyone is in there. They'll—" he stopped as if unsure. "They'll all know."

Draco nodded, taking one step closer to James and holding out his hand.

James opened and shut his mouth a few times as if unsure what to say, and for one terrifying moment Draco thought he'd misread the situation, at least until James nearly tackled him, kissing him roughly. His hands were on Draco's face as he kissed his mouth and his cheeks in rapid succession before shoving his face into Draco's neck and laughing.

Draco closed his eyes at the onslaught of emotions, running his hands up and down James's back until James pulled away, ducking his head in embarrassment and rubbing the side of his neck.

"You ready then?" James asked, looking nervous, but more importantly _happy_.

Draco nodded, holding out his hand. "I thought perhaps you might give me the next dance?"

The smile that graced James's face this time was one Draco knew all too well—one of deep contentment—as he linked his fingers with Draco's. "I'd give you all my dances."

Draco squeezed James's fingers softly as they turned and headed back up the steps and inside the Ball _together_.

Draco's last thought as they re-entered the Ball hand in hand, to furtive glances and loud whispers, was that he wasn't just in love, James loved him too.

He was _loved_.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the 2018 Harry Potter Cross Gen Fest. The author and artist will be revealed on August 31.


End file.
